Laws of Motion
by Das War Schon Kaputt
Summary: Newton's first law of motion states that a body will remain at rest or in motion in a straight line unless it is acted upon by an unbalanced force. For Kurt, this force came in the form of a speeding vehicle. It said something about his life that getting hit by a car was the best thing to ever happen to him. Famous!Blaine AU. Klaine.
1. The First Law

**The First Law**

* * *

_Newton's first law of motion states that a particle will remain at rest or continue in motion in a straight line until it is acted upon by an unbalanced force._

_It applies to people too._

_Sometimes I think about what would have happened if my unbalanced force hadn't hit me when it did. I probably would have just continued in a straight line, going through the different dances and routines of life._

_But I didn't._

_Have you ever heard the phrase, "Love hits you like a car crash"?_

_I just wish it wasn't taken quite so literally._

* * *

If Kurt had to narrow it down, he'd say everything had probably started with his neighbour's dog.

Now, Kurt _likes _animals. He can appreciate their adorable fluffiness, wide-eyed innocence and undeniable cuteness, and can even put up with the freakishly high squeals that girls seem to love to make whenever they see one, but, so help him, he was going to _throttle _that bloody mongrel.

Yeah, it all started with the bloody dog.

If the godforsaken mutt hadn't been barking so loudly at three o'clock in the morning, then maybe Kurt wouldn't have been so tired that morning. And, maybe, if he hadn't been so tired, he would have put the right type of fuel in his car. And maybe, if he had put the right type of fuel in his Navigator, then he wouldn't be stood on the pavement, freezing his ass off as he waited for a bus to come and pick him up.

Granted, Finn had offered to give him a lift after football practice, but if Kurt was frank he didn't want to have to spend one more second that necessary in the hellhole that was known as McKinley High. So he'd grinned at Finn, said no, and headed off to the bus stop after school.

Stupid decision.

Kurt wrapped his arms around his middle, pulling his coat once more tighter around himself. It was only September; he had _at_ _least _another month before the sub-zero temperatures were supposed to kick in, right?

He flicked his wrist, checking the time.

16: 46: 37

The bus was officially over fifteen minutes late.

And that, Kurt would later relate, was when he saw him.

"What the hell are you doing here, faggot?"

No. No. No. Not possible. He wasn't meant to be here. He was _supposed_ to be at practice. No. No. No.

But there he was, letterman jacket announcing his presence like a large neon sign. Kurt just couldn't catch a bloody break, could he?

Kurt bit his lip to prevent him from snapping back. Just ignore them Get through it. Keep your head down.

"You suddenly deaf _and_ gay? I asked what you thought you were doing here, gay-boy."

"You suddenly blind _and_ stupid, Azimio?" Kurt bit out. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" He made an exaggerated gesture towards the bus stop.

Azimio snarled. "Shut it, Hummel."

The shove wasn't exactly a surprise. It didn't really send Kurt off balance much at all.

What was a surprise, was that Kurt found himself shoving back.

"Well make up your goddamned mind, then, because I can't answer your fucking questions and 'shut it' at the same time. So, why don't you just back the hell off, OK?"

OK, that was pretty beyond his usual level of vulgarity. But he was tired, cold and just so fucking sick of acting as a stress ball for the brainless hulks that made up the football team.

And after that, things got bad pretty quickly.

In retrospect, maybe it was unfair to put all the blame of this onto his neighbour's dog. Because, looking back, none of the events to come would have happened if Azimio hadn't pushed Kurt into the road.

But he did.

And Kurt stumbled, his feet catching on each other, before he turned just in time to be greeted by blaring headlights and an expensive paint job.

Kurt didn't remember much about the actual impact of the crash. But the build-up, that split-second wait – that stayed with Kurt forever.

There were no flashes of his life, no heartfelt montages of his mother and father, of Carol and Finn, of Glee and Mr Schue, no moments of clarity.

Just a spike of adrenaline and one thought.

_I'm going to die._

And then the car hit him.

* * *

Blaine Anderson didn't remember much about the crash either. He did, however, remember the aftermath. The burst of panic, the _ohshitohshitohshit _his brain was chanting as he practically punched the seatbelt button and slammed open the car door.

He remembered his fingers fumbling on the touch-screen of his phone, cursing that he couldn't dial faster. He remembered how he practically screamed down the phone at the person who answered. He remembered the blood, the glass and the dent on his car. He remembered staring at the crumpled body of the teenager and feeling so _useless, _as he babbled incoherently, trying not to let those eyes flutter shut.

He didn't really remember the bystander.

Or the cry of, "Holy shit, Blaine Anderson?"

Or the tell-tale snap of a camera taking a photo.

Or even what he said to the teenager to make him stay awake.

He did remember the aftermath though.

* * *

**T.V. SENSATION MOWS DOWN OHIO TEENAGER!**

**THIS MAN IS NOT FOR TURNING: BLAINE ANDERSON HOSPITALISES TEEN IN CAR CRASH.**

**BLANDERSON SMASHES MORE THAN RECORDS IN ROAD ACCIDENT!**

**DON'T STOP (ME) NOW: FAMOUS ACTOR FORGETS TO HIT THE BRAKES!**

* * *

"No, no, no! You can't fall asleep! Stay awake!"

"…"

"Oh gods no, please no, don't fall asleep!"

"…"

"Don't close your eyes! You need to stay awake!"

"... Loud."

"What?"

"… You're… Really… Loud…"

* * *

When he woke up, Kurt would later be pretty horrified to discover that his first words to the sensational Blaine Anderson were a complaint. He would also be too drugged up to care.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, don't close your eyes. You can't sleep! You have to stay awake."

"…"

"No, stay awake!"

"…"

"Goddamnit, stay awake!"

* * *

But this wasn't really Blaine's fault.

OK, maybe just a little bit.

But like hell would Kurt ever admit it.

In fact, assigning the blame wasn't really the best path.

Because what happened next was many, many things. A colossal Charlie-Foxtrot, sure. Painful as hell, definitely. A PR nightmare, naturally.

But worth it? Fantastic? Wonderful?

Completely.

It says something about Kurt's life that getting hit by a car was the best thing to ever happen to him.

* * *

_Uh, this story just hit me as I completed a five hour slog of mechanics homework. Yeah, further maths AS? Not a great idea._

_Ha, it's been a while, ne?_

_A lot of stuff has gone down in my life recently and it's kind of turned my entire perspective upside down. It's kind of hard to write, but I've been getting back into it. This story of mine was originally posted on S&C, but I've put it up here for, well, I don't know why._

_-Kaputt_


	2. Moments and Momentum

I think you'll like the end to this chapter. Just sayin'.

* * *

**Moments and Momentum**

_The funny thing about _Rational Fear, _the break-through hit of the then unknown director-writer Jeremy Brown, was how little hype there was surrounding it before its pilot's airdate. In fact, the first episode was barely a blip on the proverbial radar, with viewing figures just shy of average and solid, but unexceptional public response to the show._

_By the second episode, however, the series had exploded._

_Critics were raving about the show, calling it "a landmark of modern TV, destined for the infamy of such works as _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _and _Star Trek._" There was talk of award nominations. The show's stellar, but inexperienced main cast went from nobodies to everybody_ _overnight._

_In his first interview, Blaine Anderson, who plays Gavin Hope, the show's protagonist, summed it up best:_

_"Turning on my computer the next day was surreal. I legitimately thought the world had ended – that was the only possible explanation for the sudden influx of mail in my inbox."_

_By the time the third episode had aired, _Rational Fear _was already well on its way to becoming an undeniable cult classic._

_So kids, watch this space. I can already tell that this show's gonna go far._

* * *

It was time.

In the pit of his stomach, Kurt could feel the dread start to churn, but he bit down on the growing nausea and instead chose to flex his fingers around his satchel strap. He could do this.

In the seat beside him, Finn pulled the keys out of the ignition and turned towards the white-as-a-ghost face of Kurt.

"Dude, you know it's not too late to go back," he said with a shrug. "Burt'd kill me if I made you go to school when you were less than one hundred per cent."

"I'm fine," Kurt snapped with a little more venom than was strictly necessary.

Finn just held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Hey, I'm not saying you're not. I just don't want you to think you have to do this, like you have to prove something to yourself, Kurt, 'cause you don't."

Almost immediately, Kurt felt his whole being soften.

"That's not what this is about, Finn," he said quietly.

"It's just, dude, you only have another two weeks before you can start at Dalton. You don't have to do this."

Kurt unplugged his seatbelt and moved for the door.

"I know," he said simply. He pushed open the heavy metal frame and slammed it shut behind him.

Finn rolled his eyes, but got out and followed him.

* * *

**_Five minutes after the accident:_**

_Burt Hummel was a good father._

_He did all the right things at all the right times, knew when to push his son, knew when to hold back… He may not have understood Kurt fully, but he loved him. Loved him more than anything._

_Which is why he can't really remember much about that day apart from the urgent, anxious, call from one of his part-timers._

_"Boss, you should see this."_

_Frank, smeared in grime and grease, waved his smartphone at Burt, and flashed him the screen, filled with a recent twitter post._

_Burt's whole world stopped._

_Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Bloody and damaged and sprawled over the hood of a car and lifeless and limp and stop, just stop._

_Frank watched him closely, sympathy and concern creasing his brow._

_Burt wanted to tell him to put away the phone – he wasn't on break; he shouldn't have been using it – and shout at the other workers to get back to it – he wasn't a zoo exhibit; he would be fine – but he couldn't. His chest seemed to constrict, tighter and tighter, and suddenly, Burt wasn't sure if it was purely emotional._

_His heart thudded against his rib cage and then suddenly, it stopped thudding at all._

_Burt hit the ground just as the other mechanics began to panic._

* * *

The stares were almost as bad as slushies, Kurt reflected as he slotted a set of books into his locker. Actually, that was a lie – those things _stung _– but that didn't make the staring any less pleasant. Kurt did his best to ignore it as he navigated the corridors between classes, everyone wisely giving him a wide berth.

Well, nearly everyone.

"Oh my god, Kurt!"

The relative isolation of a hospital room had been too good to last.

"Rachel Berry," he intoned dryly as New Directions' star soloist flung herself at him all the while squealing in happiness. Kurt braced himself against the locker and once again thanked God for the wonders of modern medicine and painkillers.

"It's been such a long time," Rachel cried, breaking off the contact and smiling at him. "You wouldn't believe the _drama_ you've missed."

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"You guys wanted to do Britney Spears," he listed, checking each item off on his fingers, "but Mr Schue said no, so you dressed up like some sort of slutty catholic schoolgirl kinkfest, and danced around school for a bit until he caved. The later performance caused some sort of sex riot though, so we're probably not touching Britney again with a barge pole. Mr Schue wanted to do the Rocky Horror Picture Show as a school musical, but that was axed because it was inappropriate. We have new members in the glee club, including a guy named Sam, who by the way, needs to stop dying his hair with lemon juice – it shows… Oh, and Finn found the face of Jesus in a grilled cheese sandwich and prompted you all to surround mine and Burt's hospital rooms and pray. Have I missed anything?"

Rachel blinked at him.

"I was in hospital, Rachel, not North Korea," he stated flatly. "And you guys seem to have this obsession with putting everything on facebook."

"It's still been too long, Kurt," Rachel insisted, undeterred.

"I was hit by a car," Kurt deadpanned. Then, he added as an afterthought, "I thought everyone knew that."

"Oh, Kurt, that's not what everyone knows," Rachel said, shaking her head. "What everyone knows is that you were hit by _Blaine Anderson's _car."

And there it was. The start of the conversation that Kurt was dreading.

"So?" prompted Rachel eagerly.

Kurt rolled his eyes. He hoiked a textbook from his locker and positioned it in his arms.

"So what?" he tried to deflect casually.

"So you dominated the newspapers for over a week, Kurt!" Rachel pressed. "Not in name, obviously, as they just called you something like 'an unidentified highschool student', but still! You were _all_ anyone could talk about – I would _kill _for that kind of publicity – and you're trying to tell me that there's nothing extra you can share with a friend?"

"OK, first, Rachel," Kurt replied. "This?" He gestured at the space between them. "Not friendship. We're not friends. Second, I wouldn't answer you if we were."

Kurt slammed the locker door shut. "Thirdly, I'm late for French."

He turned around and walked away.

* * *

**_One week after the accident:_**

_Finn couldn't remember feeling so numb since the day of his father's death._

_In the end, Finn supposed, it was the hair that got him._

_Kurt's hair was always perfectly coifed – styled to perfection. Finn didn't think he had ever seen Kurt without some sort of hairstyle fixed. Not after that football match, not after a single Cheerio practice, hell, Finn was convinced that Kurt could probably swim in the ocean and still be one because-you're-worth-it-esque flick away from salon standard flawlessness._

_Evidently, Finn had never seen Kurt like this before._

_Pale and pallid – paler than usual, at least – with closed eyes and faint, barely there breathing, that was Kurt now. Lying on a hard bed, tangles of tubes and wires around him, and his hair? Flat. Dead. Wilted._

_Like Kurt._

_It was with a horrible, emotionless detachedness that Finn stared through the glass window at Kurt. Maybe he should have been crying, he realised belatedly, instead of just staring. Or at least fighting back tears. Or wrapping his arms around his mom. Or doing something. _

_But he didn't. He couldn't. He just stared._

_Maybe it was because he couldn't really process everything that had happened in the last two hours. Maybe it was because he didn't want to. Maybe it was because he just couldn't get the repeating mantra out of his head._

**_Your fault. It's your fault. All your fault. You did this._**

_Logically, Finn knew he couldn't have predicted what would happen._

_That just made it worse._

_He should have insisted on giving Kurt a ride. He should have insisted on Rachel giving Kurt a ride home. He should have…_

_… but he didn't._

_Finn sank to the floor, leaning back against the wall._

**_All your God-damn fault._**

* * *

Mercedes was the next to try and draw the gossip out of him. Kurt made sure it was harder than getting blood from a stone.

"Pol-_lease_," she said, rolling her eyes. "Kurt, I know you. You watched Anderson's dumb 'Courage' video practically 24/7 last year, even after you came out. You were even more enamoured with him than you were with Finn."

"Do you have a point hiding in there somewhere, Mercedes?" Kurt asked as he copied down the English assignment from the board.

"My point is, Kurt," Mercedes intoned, "that I flat-out refuse to believe that you didn't use this whole scandal business to at least try and _meet_ the man of your teenage dreams."

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again. "Mercedes, I admire Blaine Anderson, sure, because he's a brilliant actor and yes, because he's out and proud, but I was not _enamoured _with him."

"Whatever you say, Kurtie-pie."

Kurt was prepared to thank whatever greater power there was up there when she finally dropped it.

* * *

**_Three weeks after the accident:_**

_To all my fabulous followers,_

_The Eyes and Ears in the Wall here, ready to dish the latest on what we have come to call "Crash and Blaine". It's been over three weeks since the now infamous photos hit Twitter and we finally have an update._

_Though the identity of the highschool student (henceforth referred to as Mystery Kid by this blogger) Blaine hit has yet to be revealed, our sources have confirmed that the accident was not in fact the fault of the famous TV star. A representative recently told the press that Mystery Kid, who has just come out of his coma, is in fact, claiming to have been pushed into the path of the car by a fellow student at his school._

_To Blaine's loyal following, this news comes as a not-unexpected, but still completely welcome relief._

_Personally, I'm just glad that Mystery Kid is probably going to be alright. Right now, my thoughts are with his family and friends. So, Mystery Kid's parents, if you're out there somewhere reading this, I wish you all the best in the recovery of your son._

_Eyes and Ears over and out._

* * *

Kurt was surprised that the next person to speak to him was Mike.

They didn't really speak much, or at all. Even on his brief stint on the football team, Mike had barely said three words to him. Whilst at the beginning Kurt had just assumed he made Mike uncomfortable, it had gradually dawned on him that Mike was like that with everyone. The dancer was in fact merely painfully shy and withdrawn.

Well, last year at least.

One summer seemed to have made a lot of difference to Mike.

After their joint calculus class, Mike caught Kurt's arm and pulled him aside.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm really glad you're better," Mike said, sincerity evident in his tone. "It was kind of rough on, well, everyone after you got hit by that car."

"Thanks Mike," Kurt replied.

Mike shrugged. "You're a Gleek, Kurt. You're part of the family – no matter how dysfunctional it may be." He paused. "I also wanted to tell you that Tina and I are going to miss you when you leave for Dalton. When do you head off?"

"Two weeks tomorrow."

"Cool, I guess," Mike said. "And, if, uh, the classes there are a bit harder than McKinley, you should drop me a line. My mum makes me go to cram school, so I'm pretty good if you need any homework help."

Kurt found himself staring at Mike.

"What?" the Asian boy asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Nothing. I guess it's just becoming more and more obvious why Tina started dating you. You're a pretty cool guy, you know that, right?"

"I try," Mike said wryly, affecting an easy grin. "See you around, Kurt."

* * *

_Blaine Anderson's face stared straight forward, with the grainy and shaky quality that only a web-cam video possesses. His eyes bore straight into the camera, like he was trying to size it all up as he worked up the nerve to speak._

_When he spoke, his voice was scratchy and hesitant, but grew in both volume and certainty with every word._

_"I had thought," he said, "of a thousand ways to say this – a thousand ways I might feel afterwards – but none of them really factored in waking up to see my face plastered over the front cover of every major gossip rag, accompanied with the words, 'The Boy Who Loved Boys'."_

_ "By now, you probably think that you've heard it all, but you haven't heard it from me. In fact, my agent called me just thirty minutes ago to tell me that I could still deny it all now and that by next week, this would have all blown over."_

_Dropping his eyes, Blaine took a deep breath. "I don't want that."_

_He shook his head, a small smile working its way onto his face. "Acting on _Rational Fear _has taught me a lot of things about myself, about people and about life in general. So, I'm going to take a leaf out of Gavin's book and have some courage."_

_He raked his eyes up the camera, until he was staring dead into the lens. With all the dramatics and flare of someone of unflappable resolve, he declared, "Ladies and gentleman of the internet, my name is Blaine Anderson and I am without a doubt, absolutely, 100% gay._

_"I don't care what that makes me. A sinner, a fag, a fairy – whatever. My sexuality is not something that I've been struggling with. It's something that I've really always known. It's a part of me. It's not going to change, ever. It was, however, an element of my private and personal life that I was not ready to share with the general public._

_"I didn't want for one moment the hysteria that has surrounded my sexual orientation for the past week. This isn't me pouring my soul out to a magazine, or calling a press conference and dodging invasive questions for an hour or two. I personally think you've all seen every possible play of words relating to my sexuality already and it might have killed the editors if they had to think up yet another set of them._

_"Which is why this video isn't going to become someone's exclusive. That's not what this is about."_

_Blaine finally managed a full smile, one which refused to leave._

_"This is about me trying to finally be honest with all of you and to dig into my inner courage."_

From the video, **Courage**, posted by **BlaineAnderson** on , November 6th 2009, at 11:03 am.

* * *

Kurt managed to get Finn to run him home after school, before circling back and returning to Glee club practice. He made up some lie about not feeling up to it, or about his pain meds wearing off, or being exhausted.

His dad was out – out with Carole – and Kurt was perfectly happy to walk through the empty house, running his hands over all the decorations. A thick skin of dust gathered over his fingers, the house having been pretty much abandoned since his accident.

It had taken three weeks for Kurt to wake from the coma he'd fallen into and a further two weeks to get released from hospital. During that time, everything had been manic. Waking up to the news that your father had had a heart attack because of you wasn't really the best way to set foot on the road to recovery, but after five minutes of just plain freaking out, the hospital staff had managed to convince him to calm down.

Burt would be fine, they said. And panicking was bad for both of them. Just breathe, they said. Everything would be OK.

For the most part, they were right. Burt had managed to come visit Kurt a few days after he woke up. The mechanic had to be wheeled into the room in a wheelchair, only to be subjected to a vicious lecture from his bedridden son about healthy eating and bad habbits.

(Burt's only response was to grin.)

The legal side of things had been even more stressful as no less than six different individuals asked Kurt for his side of the story, which he dutifully recounted. Then, he had to insist, hand on heart, that _yes _he had been pushed into that road and _no _he wasn't making this up to try and score a favour from his celebrity crush.

Blaine Anderson's team of lawyers had, however, been eager to cover all bases, and suddenly Kurt found himself being handed a cheque for – _holy shit_, where the fuck was the decimal point?!

Suffice to say it was enough to pay for the rest of his schooling to take place at Dalton, and for all his college tuition.

And no, he wasn't just saying some kid pushed him into the road for the _money_ either. And no, _for the last time_, this wasn't because he had a crush on _Blaine bloody Anderson_.

And what on earth was it with people assuming he was in love or lust or something with Blaine Anderson?

Hitting someone with a car didn't exactly scream "be mine".

Kurt startled up as the doorbell rang.

With no real rush, he made it to the front door, peeking through the glass to see who it was. A smile set in place on his lips.

He pulled it open.

"Hey," he said. "I was hoping it was you."

And then he reached out, wrapped his hand around Blaine Anderson's tie and pulled the TV star into a searing kiss.


	3. Statics and Kinematics

**Statics and Kinematics**

_"Well, I met Jeremy Brown when we were both stuck in a hospital room together for a week. He told me about this script he was working on – he said he'd started screenwriting because it was less effort than prose. The main character was initially a girl so when he called me a month later and asked me to audition for the main role I was like, 'This better be a joke.'"_

Blaine Anderson's first ever live interview – August 4th 2009

* * *

The day Kurt woke up from his coma was one of the best days of Blaine's life.

The other contenders couldn't really compete, if he was honest. Sure, the day he met Jeremy Brown and the day he landed his part on _Rational Fear_ were up there, but it was a different kind of good. Each of those days had marked the start of a new chapter of his life – away from the dramatics and commotions of high school and into the dramatics and commotions of the television industry – but they were also marred by the uneasy memory of how exactly he came to meet the famed creator of the show.

Of course, the reason Kurt was even in a coma was Blaine's fault, and that guilt very nearly killed him, but when compared with the overwhelming rush of relief and elation when Kurt's fingers started to twitch in his palm… There really was no competition.

And then, when Kurt's eyes started to flutter open, Blaine thought he was going to swallow every next breath.

But he didn't.

Instead, he tightened his hand around Kurt's, gasping slightly when those delicate fingers started to grip back, and screamed for a nurse, or a doctor, or _anyone with anything even approaching a medical degree_. Then Kurt's facial muscles began to twitch and, _oh God, it was really happening. _

Every last detail of those excruciatingly long three minutes and forty-eight seconds was ingrained into his mind, etched onto his retinas.

Because, even sallow-faced and drained and ill, Kurt was still breath-taking.

And that hadn't changed.

Two weeks.

It seemed ridiculous to him, even knowing all he knew, that it only took two weeks to become completely and utterly _enveloped _in everything that was Kurt Hummel.

So when Kurt snaked his fingers around the tie he was wearing and smashed their lips together, Blaine felt himself swallow his breath all over again. They broke apart, their foreheads still resting on one another, Kurt threading their fingers together and Blaine convincing himself again and again that this was real… It was happening to him.

"Hey you," Blaine whispered.

Kurt smiled a small, enigmatic smile before tugging at Blaine's tie once more and drawing him further into the house.

The door latched shut behind them.

* * *

_Blaine stood still, his knuckles white around the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands, staring at the hospital room door. This was stupid. He shouldn't even be here – in Ohio, let alone in a hospital that churned up one too many unpleasant memories._

_And, sure, he was feeling bad, but it'd pass, right? And he needed to be in Los Angeles, like, yesterday._

_He just –_

_He couldn't sleep._

_For over a week he'd just spent his time lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to so much as close his eyes._

_Blaine reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the door handle. He took a deep breath and prepared to push the door open._

_"Uh, dude, you like can't go in there. Family only."_

_The voice made Blaine startle and drop the handle like it had burnt him._

_"Uh, sorry," Blaine floundered for words as he turned around and came face-to-face with the tallest teenager he had ever seen._

_The teenager stood awkwardly behind Blaine, his hands shoved far into the pockets of his letterman jacket. Blaine immediately recognised the logo. William McKinley High._

_"Don't sweat it," Mr Freakishly Tall said with an easy wave of his hand. Then he squinted at Blaine. "Hey, do I know you or something?"_

_A bubbling anxiety rose in Blaine's chest and suddenly he felt like a child caught with his hands in the biscuit tin._

_"It's fine," Blaine said, ducking around the other teenager. "I'll just – I'll just go."_

_"You're the guy who crashed into Kurt with his car," Mr Freakishly Tall stated and in between the now fully-fledged burning panic, Blaine allowed the realisation to sink in._

_Kurt. His name was Kurt. It suited him._

_"I'll just go," Blaine repeated yet again, trying to get away as quickly as possible without breaking out into a run._

_"No, you can stay." The voice cut across Blaine's hasty retreat. "Just, how on earth did you find his room? I asked the people at the front desk to keep his name and whereabouts on the down low."_

_Blaine flushed. This was the bit that made him seem really, really pathetic._

_"I, uh, didn't find out from front desk," he admitted. "They wouldn't even tell me his name, let alone his room number. I, kind of, well, um, searched every room in the hospital until I found him?"_

_"Is that a question?" Mr Freakishly Tall asked back, seeming vaguely amused. "I'm Finn, by the way."_

_"Blaine Anderson," Blaine introduced on reflex._

_Finn shrugged. "Cool. So, you wanna go see Kurt?"_

_Blaine stared as Finn twisted the door handle and pushed the door slightly ajar. He breathed, "I'm not family."_

_Finn smiled a small smile, one laced with so much emotion it made Blaine's stomach turn. Regret, bitter amusement, irony…_

_"Neither am I."_

"How was school?" Blaine asked, fiddling with the end of Kurt's sleeve.

They were curled up on Kurt's sofa, trying desperately hard to make the living room of his house look actually lived in.

Kurt shrugged. "Fine, I guess."

Blaine raised his eyebrows doubtfully. "Really."

"Yes, really, Blaine," Kurt said. "God, people need to stop assuming that McKinley is some kind of hell on earth. It's just high school."

Blaine smiled wryly, "And here I was thinking those two were synonymous. No one gave you a hard time, though?" he pressed. "You said that you were sure pretty much everyone would have worked out you were the one I hit."

"I'm fine," Kurt insisted. "And even if I wasn't, I don't think locker slams would do much anymore. Those pain killers are _amazing_."

Blaine laughed, brushing their noses together. "My boyfriend, the drug addict."

"You love me anyway," Kurt teased.

Blaine's only answer was to hum, the sound neither a confirmation nor a denial.

* * *

_Blaine soon got into a habit._

_He'd called his manager a few days ago, telling Wendy that he really didn't feel like working right now. _Rational Fear _was on a shooting hiatus between its first and second season and although Blaine had potential jobs lining themselves up for him like ducks in a row, he hadn't made a commitment to any of them yet._

_Wendy had just sighed this long-suffering sigh like, 'The things I put up for you, Blaine,' and told him to call her back when he was ready to work._

_Since then, Blaine would busy himself reading scripts in the morning, when he presumed Finn had school, then drive down to the hospital and wait outside Kurt's room for Finn to let him in._

_He had something of an odd companionship with Finn, one which was overshadowed by the questions neither of them were going to ask. Why are you even visiting him? Why are you even letting me visit him? Where are his friends? Where is his family?_

_It took four long days before Finn eventually spoke outright to him._

_"You know you don't have to wait for me, right?" Finn clarified, resting a hand on the pristine white sheets of Kurt's bed. "I mean, I get that you don't want to overstep, but Kurt really doesn't have anyone to visit him these days."_

_"He has you," Blaine muttered, his fingers dancing around Kurt's limp hand. "And what about his friends and family?"_

_Finn just smiled another bitter smile._

_"You know I could have been his brother," he eventually said._

_Blaine kept quiet, waiting for Finn to elaborate._

_"I could have been the best older brother ever, even though Kurt's like two months older than me, but I blew it." Finn stared at Kurt's face. "I just, I guess I snapped. Started screaming at him. Called everything about him 'faggy'. His father threw me out the house."_

_"Oh." What was Blaine supposed to say to that? That sucks man? Why are you telling me this? Instead, he chose, "Kurt's gay?"_

_Finn just looked at him like he was demented. Then he sighed._

_"It's kind of easy to forget you don't really know Kurt all that well," Finn stated. "Even when he was in the closet, it was kind of like the door was wide open."_

_"Ah."_

_"It's just… It mattered so much back then," Finn continued. "That he liked guys. He stopped being Kurt and was just 'That Gay Kid'. I guess I never realised just how little it mattered until my football coach pulled me aside after practice and told me I was needed at the hospital."_

_Finn laughed emotionlessly. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."_

_That makes two of us, thought Blaine. He didn't say that, though._

_"You would have been a brilliant older brother."_

_It wasn't much, but Finn smiled. "I know."_

* * *

"So, when do you go back to shooting?" Kurt asked, affecting the most casual intonation he could manage.

Blaine shrugged. "I fly back to LA next Tuesday."

There was a pause in the conversation as Blaine wrung his hands together and avoided Kurt's gaze. "Look," he said eventually. "I know we haven't talked about," he made a vague gesture at the space between them, "_this _at all, but – and oh God I sound like a teenage girl when I ask this – what are we?"

Kurt blinked. "What do you think we are, Blaine?"

"That's the thing, Kurt, I don't know. I mean, I'm probably the only gay guy you know, but that's all going to change when you go to Dalton and I don't want you to feel tied down to someone who's half a continent away and, oh my God, why are you laughing?"

Kurt put a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. "Blaine Anderson, for someone whose face is plastered over the bedroom walls of teenage girls worldwide, you aren't half insecure."

Blaine stared at him.

"If I were that desperate for a boyfriend, Blaine, I would have driven the two hours over to Westerville decked out in something really fabulous, and then flirted my way into the poly-cotton blend pants of any of those uptight prep school boys myself." Kurt rubbed his thumb over Blaine's knuckles. "But I don't want that."

Blaine swallowed his breath.

"So, I'll ask you again, Blaine, and for the love of God, don't get this wrong: what do you think we are?"

"Boyfriends?" Blaine asked nervously, his heart doing giddy cartwheels over how young and teenager-ish it all made him feel.

"Boyfriends."

And then Blaine leaned in and kissed him all over again.

* * *

_"So, Kurt Hummel, we meet again," Blaine said to the unconscious boy in front of him._

_The only answer he received was the steady beeping of Kurt's heart monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"Finn said I should start visiting you on my own, so this is me on my own."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"I don't really know what I'm supposed to do here. All I really did with Finn was stare down at you and think about what a bastard I am for putting you here, but I don't think I can keep that up for another week."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"The more Finn tells me about you, the more it tears me apart. Before you were just this student I hit with my car, but now… I look at you and I see… I see what I might have become if I'd never gotten out of high school. I see Blaine Anderson, version 0.3, and it freaking terrifies me, because… Because you're doing so much better than I think I could have ever done."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"And when I made that dumb video, Courage, I was just terrified, but Finn talks about you and I kinda get that you're just … fearless in a way that I could never be."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"I mean, look at you, Kurt. You're stunning. You're stunning and perfect and brave and it's not fair that you were the one I hit."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"Just please, Kurt… Just please wake up."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"Kurt?"_

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"Oh my God, Kurt!"_

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_"What's going on?"_

_"He's waking up. He's – he's waking up!"_

_"OK, sir, I'm going to need you to—"_

_"Oh my God—"_

_"Sir!"_

_"Oh my – I need to find Finn—"_

_"Sir, stay calm!"_

* * *

_OK, sorry this is very late. I was at London ComicCon yesterday and today, which has led to me being trapped in London due to a storm. I am currently sat in my friend's house, listening to the rain._

_Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think,_

_Kaputt_


	4. Vectors and Scalars

**Vectors and Scalars**

The coming days at school merged into a blur of classes and assignments, Mr Schue's odd choices of themes for Glee and, of course, _Blaine._

Kurt had yet to tell any of his friends or family about his budding relationship with the TV star, partially because he really didn't think that any of them would know what to do with the information.

OK, he lied. He had a very good idea of what they would do with the information, and that was kind of what he wanted to avoid. Dealing with Rachel's, Mercedes' and Santana's reactions alone would be enough to make his stomach turn, let alone his _father's _reaction to the news.

Kurt knew enough about his dad to realise that Burt Hummel was not Blaine Anderson's biggest fan. That may or may not have anything to do with the fact that Blaine had put his son in the hospital.

Still, Kurt found himself not really minding the clandestine nature of his relationship with Blaine. There was some sort of almost tangible exhilaration about the subterfuge – something tense and exciting about meeting Blaine in deserted parts of town, or saving Blaine's number on his phone under an alias, or stealing kisses from him away from prying eyes.

As Kurt brushed his teeth on Friday morning, his phone buzzed with a text.

_You watch Rational Fear, right?_

Kurt raised his eyebrows and spat the toothpaste down the sink. He texted back as soon as both of his hands were free.

**Is this some kind of test?**

The reply came almost immediately.

_Test?_

**Like, if you were on the football team, I'd have to go to all your matches to show support.**

_No test. Just curious. :)_

**Well, then, I guess it doesn't really matter then, right?**

_Kuuuuuuuuuuuurt._

Kurt was suddenly glad he had his own bathroom. It would be extremely weird if someone else walked in and saw him grinning at the bathroom mirror like a loon.

**Yes, Blaine?**

_Answer the question. Please?_

**What's in it for me?**

_A happy boyfriend?_

**Hmm… Tempting, but no.**

_Fine, how does dinner tomorrow night sound?_

**Better. Keep going.**

_Dinner and a movie?_

**Who's paying?**

_I'll take dinner, you can fork out for the movie?_

**I'm in.**

_Brilliant. :)_

_Wait._

_You devious sod._

_You never answered my question._

**What question?**

_Kuuuuuuuuuuuuurt._

**I am so surprised auto-correct didn't go to town on that.**

_Kuuuuuuuuuuuurt._

**What do you think?**

_Is this some kind of test?_

**Yes.**

_Then I think yes. Because I am awesome on that show._

**And to think it was your modesty that initially attracted me to you.**

_And here I was thinking it was my dashing good-looks and infectious charm._

**That too.**

_So, did I guess right?_

Just then, Burt called out, "Kurt, Finn's here!"

Kurt sighed and quickly tapped out a reply to Blaine before he dashed out of the bathroom, but not without checking his hair one last time in the mirror.

**Well, you passed the test. Read into that what you will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go learn stuff.**

_Have fun. Learn lots! Xx_

**Oh Blaine, you really haven't been to highschool in a long time, have you? xx**

* * *

Kurt slammed his locker door shut to come face-to-face with Mercedes, standing, one hand on her hip.

"Hey Mercedes," he said, starting to make his way to his next class.

"How was your night last night?" Mercedes asked, her tone pretty much the epitome of 'tread very, very carefully Kurt.'

"Fine," Kurt said.

"What did you do?" Mercedes pressed and Kurt dearly hoped she wasn't heading with this where he thought she was heading with this.

"Oh you know," Kurt said, struggling to keep his tone blasé. "Homework, facebook, sleep."

"Really?" Mercedes asked. "You see, that's funny. Because when I called your home phone last night, your father told me you were at Tina's, but – and here's the really funny thing – Tina said she hadn't seen you since lunch yesterday. But hey, I thought, 'Maybe Burt just got it wrong. He could be at Rachel's.' You weren't. In fact, it turns out no-one knows where you were last night."

"How odd," Kurt said, hoping desperately that Mercedes would just drop it.

"Oh come on, Kurt," Mercedes said. "I didn't dob you in to your father. Spill the beans already. Where were you last night?"

Kurt briefly considered telling Mercedes the truth. Very briefly.

"Out," he answered unhelpfully.

"Out where?"

"Nowhere in Lima, OK!" Kurt snapped. "Just drop it, please?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Kurt watched a conclusion slowly dawn on Mercedes, wishing he were anywhere but here right now.

"Oh. My. God."

Kurt started to walk even faster. Mercedes ran to catch up with him, blurting out the realisations as they hit her.

"_That's _why you're so adamant about not having a crush on Blaine—"

"Just leave it, Mercedes."

"—And _that's _why you've been so attached to your phone recently; I swore Mr Schue was going to confiscate it when you spent all of Glee texting with this huge-ass smile on your face—"

"Mercedes—"

"—And I can't believe you didn't tell me—"

"Mercedes, will you just shut up for one second!"

Mercedes stopped babbling and stared wide-eyed at Kurt, who was blushing furiously by this point.

"You _cannot _tell anyone about this, OK?" Kurt told her.

"But—"

"I _really _like this guy, Mercedes, but he's not ready for us to go public about it, so you just have to keep quiet, OK?"

Mercedes nodded slowly. "So, he's still in the closet?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Just not _quite _in the way she was thinking. "But he's just so … right, Mercedes. He makes me smile."

"Oh, I know, Boo," Mercedes said, softening. "You know, I thought the hospital drugs were making you loopy. I've never seen you break out the pearly whites so much."

Kurt shrugged. "He's my own special brand of Prozac."

"So what's Mr Prozac's name, then?"

Kurt smiled and thought to the number on his phone, saved under an alias.

"Chandler. Chandler Kiehl."

* * *

Blaine was just getting out of the shower when he heard his mobile ringing. He had to dive across the room to get it before it went to voicemail, hitting his head on his bedside table as he did so.

"Hello?" he managed to say through the haze of pain.

_"Blaine, it's Wendy. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time, because we really need to talk."_

Blaine sat up, rubbing his head. "No, go ahead. What is it?"

_"I know you said you wanted to take things easy whilst filming _Rational Fear _season two, but I kind of got an offer I thought you wouldn't want to turn down."_

"What is it?"

"_It's a high school drama about a Greenpower Club."_

"A what?"

_"It's a club where you build a battery power car and then race it."_

"OK…" Blaine hedged, hesitant.

_"Check your e-mail, Blaine. I sent you the pilot script. I was uncertain at first when they called me with this, but I think you're going to really want to do it."_

Blaine pushed himself up off the ground, pulling his towel closer around himself as he looked for his laptop. He flicked the smooth computer open and brought up his e-mail. Sure enough, sat there in his inbox was a new mail from Wendy, a PDF file attached.

"OK, I've found your e-mail," Blaine said. "When do I need to make a decision by?"

_"If I don't get back to them by tonight, they're going to start looking for someone else."_

Blaine sighed. He opened the attachment.

And he read.

* * *

Kurt's phone buzzed again during study and he was forced to endure a knowing smirk from Mercedes as he went to answer it.

_I need to see you._

Kurt glanced around the room before flipping his phone to silent and then texting Blaine back.

**Sure, when?**

_I'm outside your school right now._

Kurt looked between his half-completed French homework and the study supervisor, who was currently dozing on his desk. He turned to Mercedes.

"Cover for me?" he mouthed.

Merecedes held up a finger as she wrote her reply down on her notepad. She held it up with a grin.

GO GET 'IM TIGER!

Kurt smiled back before quietly gathering up his school things and leaving the room. The study supervisor didn't even stir.

Being alone in the hallways of McKinley was a surprisingly daunting experience, Kurt discovered as he ducked out of the classroom and headed for his locker. The sound of his Doc Martens as they patted against the floor echoed and ricocheted off the plain walls, somehow seeming cacophonous in the silence.

When Kurt reached his locker, he made quick work of organising himself for the weekend. It was when he was grabbing his history textbook that he heard them. A second pair of footsteps.

Kurt looked up, only to come face-to-face with David Karofsky.

Kurt didn't know if it was because Azimio had been expelled and was currently sitting in juvie somewhere, or for some other reason, but since his return to school, Karofsky had been giving him a wide berth.

It only hit him when he saw the bathroom pass in Karofsky's meaty palm, that they were _alone_ together. _No witnesses, _the annoyingly right part of his brain whispered. He didn't even realise he had been holding his breath until Karofsky had long since passed, choosing only to glare at Kurt.

It was OK, Kurt reassured himself. Nothing had happened. No-one had been pushed in front of speeding traffic. No-one was in either the morgue or hospital.

Still, Kurt found himself looking forward with much more eagerness to his transfer to Dalton.

The decision to leave behind his friends, and the familiarity of the walls of McKinley, had been a hard one. It was eventually Carole who spelled it out for Kurt in a way that made him understand his dad's insistence on it.

It had been bad enough for Burt to realise that Kurt had been in an accidental road accident outside of McKinley. It was so much worse when Kurt revealed that he had been pushed in front of the car. Although Azimio had been picked up by the police weeks ago and was currently awaiting trial, Burt wanted his son safe.

Dalton was the best way to make that happen.

Next up was the reason that Carole had insisted on it.

Much as Kurt hated to admit it, he knew that he was a constant source of stress in his dad's life. He knew that Burt secretly disapproved of how he dressed, wished that he'd be more conservative, if only so that he'd be safer, and worried constantly for his welfare. He knew that sometimes he caused his dad more stress in five minutes as they fought that an entire month down at the shop.

So maybe giving his dad a break from looking after Kurt would be good for recovery.

Sure, it had hurt like hell when Carole originally said it – tact aside, the point was basically that he was a crap son – but Kurt had begrudgingly admitted she made sense and agreed to start weekly-boarding at Dalton.

And he was kind of excited about it, to be honest. Not just because he was leaving McKinley and the bullies and the daily torment behind, but because it would be a challenge. They even had their own show choir, too, the Dalton Academy Warblers.

OK, not the best of names, but it would be a fresh start.

Kurt smiled to himself as he pushed open the front doors of McKinley High and scoured the parking lot for his boyfriend.

He spotted Blaine pretty much right away. The actor was leaning against the bumper of his – admittedly new – hire car, his dark curls shoved underneath a beanie, a pair of glasses on his nose. It wasn't exactly the best disguise, but Kurt found it rather adorable.

"Hey," Kurt said as he drew nearer. "What's wrong?"

"Can we talk about this in the car, Kurt?" Blaine asked. "I need your help making a decision."

"And this couldn't have waited another forty minutes until I was officially out of my last lesson?" Kurt asked, but he yanked open the passenger side door and slid in. Something crinkled beneath him on the seat, but Kurt ignored it. He turned to face Blaine, who was already doing up his own seatbelt.

"You going to tell me what this is about now?" Kurt asked as Blaine turned his keys in the ignition and started to back up and out of the parking lot.

"There was something on your seat," Blaine said. "I need you to pick it up and read it."

Kurt pushed himself off the seat a few inches and pulled out a set of pages stapled together from underneath him.

"What's this?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shifted gears rather violently. "A script."

"OK, but why are you showing it to me?" Kurt asked, staring at the title on the front: Collision.

"It's a high school drama about a Greenpower Club," Blaine started.

"A what?"

"It's," Blaine shook his head. "Never mind. Just read the script, OK?"

Blaine glanced away from the road long enough to meet Kurt's eyes. Kurt sighed, and made a face like, 'You owe me for this, Anderson,' but flicked it open and started to read.

They were halfway to wherever Blaine was taking them when Kurt put the script down.

"What do you think?" Blaine asked immediately, gripping the steering wheel.

"That was…" Kurt drifted off, unsure of how to say what he wanted to.

"Good, bad, needs to be burned?" Blaine prompted.

"Really, really good," Kurt finished. "Kind of powerful. I'm sorry if I'm being unhelpful, but I really don't know what you want me to say."

"What did you think of the characters, Liam in particular?" Blaine asked and Kurt couldn't help but feel there was an answer in particular he was searching for.

"Um, as an ex-in-the-transparent-closet homosexual myself, I'd say pretty spot on," Kurt said uncertainly. "Blaine, what is this about?"

"They want me to act in this show," Blaine rushed out. "Not as Liam, but as another gay character they're introducing later. Kurt, they told me they created this character with me in mind. For me."

"Oh, OK," Kurt said. "That's, uh, pretty amazing all things considered."

"So, do you think I should do it?"

"Do what?"

"Take the part."

Kurt stared fully at Blaine, his mouth dropping open before he clamped it shut. "I sincerely hope you're kidding me, Blaine."

"Why?"

"Of course you should take the part," Kurt said. "First off, it would be downright rude to turn them down after all the effort they went to in order to get you on the show and second, why are we even having this conversation?"

Blaine sighed, before he switched the indicator on and pulled the car into a lay-by. He turned to face Kurt, twisting in his seat.

"When the whole Blaine Anderson is gay thing hit the fan and I chose not to deny it," Blaine began quietly, "I told myself I wouldn't do it. Turn myself into some sort icon for gay kids, because really, I can't handle that sort of pressure and I'm not the sort of person that they should be looking up to. People seem to think I'm this self-assured, smooth-talking charmer, but Kurt, I'm just not. I have no idea what I'm doing half the time. I'm just really, really good at faking."

"I still don't see how this relates to you taking the part, Blaine," Kurt pointed out bluntly.

"I'm scared, Kurt," Blaine admitted. "I'm scared because I can't do what you do. I can't march down hallways with my head held high whilst people throw homophobic slurs at me, screaming 'This is who I am, deal with it!' because I just can't. And this part is just going to…" Blaine broke off. "I can't be fearless like you Kurt."

Kurt's eyes softened. He reached down and unplugged his seat belt, then leant over so he could comfort Blaine.

"Blaine," he said tenderly. "I'm not fearless. Fearlessness is shutting your eyes and throwing yourself forward blindly. Courage, Blaine, is opening them and looking before you leap, but leaping anyway."

Kurt stroked his thumb across Blaine's collar bone. "Take your own advice, Anderson. Have a little courage."

* * *

Kurt ended up banging through the front door a few minutes before six to find his dad slouched on the sofa, watching a rerun of a football game. Burt looked up and put it on mute before patting on the sofa beside him, signally for Kurt to come sit down.

"Hey kiddo," Burt said. "How was Mercedes'?"

Kurt sunk down into the sofa cushions next to him, shrugging a little. "Fine, I guess. We watched a bunch of Disney films. I'm going to miss her at Dalton." It was funny, but even though he'd only said the statement as part of his sell of his cover story, Kurt knew it was true the second it left his mouth. Not wanting to linger on that thought, Kurt quickly changed the subject. "Who's winning?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

"I dunno," Burt confessed. "I was kind of just watching so it wouldn't be so quiet without you here." Burt paused. "Kurt, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"And I know I said that I wasn't really ready for it last year, but that includes boys," Burt said carefully, watching his son's reaction closely.

Kurt nodded once more.

"Even if you don't think I'd approve," Burt continued.

Kurt started to nod, but cut himself off. "Where are you going with this?" he questioned suspiciously.

Burt sighed before throwing an arm around Kurt's shoulders. The teenager yelped slightly as his father drew him close.

"I almost lost you once, Kurt," Burt said. "I don't know if you know how that felt, but it literally gave me a heart attack. You being gay may have made me feel … uncomfortable, but Kurt, I love you. Every part."

Kurt's thoughts drifted to Blaine and the jarring topic changes he pulled whenever his family was mentioned and suddenly he felt horrible and manipulative and like a class-A asshole for keeping his boyfriend secret. Because he had a family who cared. And he could tell his dad. And he would still care.

Kurt sighed and leant into his father's embrace.

"I know, Dad," he said. "I know."

They remained like that for a few seconds before Kurt swallowed his fear.

"Dad, there's someone I want you to meet."

* * *

_Here's another chapter. I don't really like this one, but that is more than made up for by how much love I have for the coming chapter._

_See you then,_

_-Kaputt_


	5. Limiting Equilibrium

**Limiting Equilibrium**

_You know that calm before the storm, where everything is still and unmoving? That single moment of perfect tranquillity before everything falls to pieces? That's how I like to think of the early days of our relationship._

_Limiting equilibrium. Just one push, one extra force, and everything spins out of control._

* * *

Blaine Anderson had been terrified before. He knew what it was like to feel his heart thudding against his rib cage, to see in freeze frames and fear for his life.

That's why he knew that he was absolutely terrified to the core by the prospect of meeting Kurt's father. Kurt's declarations of, "He's a teddy bear," and, "It's fine; I'll hide his shotgun before you come over," really did nothing to soothe his fear.

Because, Blaine knew that if some famous bastard in a sports car they probably couldn't drive properly had hit his son, and then _hit on _said son, he'd probably … well, hit the scumbag with whatever he had, car or no.

And that wasn't what was worst. Blaine _wanted _– hell, he _needed _– this man to like him. He wanted him to look at him and approve and trust him with Kurt. Burt Hummel was a man whose approval he craved more than any of his critics, more than any of his fellow actors, more than his own family.

OK, so he was eighteen.

What he had with Kurt probably wouldn't last forever.

But right now… Right now it sure as hell felt like it would.

The realisation hit Blaine like a stab in the chest as he fiddled with his tie knot in front of the mirror. He _liked _Kurt. He _liked _Kurt _a lot. _This wasn't just some sort of fling – not to him at least. This wasn't him drunkenly making out with whoever was in front of him at some private party. This wasn't his last screw-up of a relationship.

This was… Different.

This was Kurt.

Kurt whose father apparently owned a gun.

Oh, he was so screwed.

* * *

_Blaine stared._

_Kurt stared back._

_They remained like that, locked in each other's gazes, until Kurt spoke up._

_"This is awkward," he said and Blaine had to agree._

_"Mortifyingly so," he clarified._

_Blaine wasn't sure what he had been expecting when Kurt had woken up – how he'd thought their relationship would progress – but he was certain of one thing: he wasn't walking away from this. He had become too emotionally invested in Kurt to even think of letting him go. He didn't care if Kurt was some sort of stalker fan, or hated him, or whatever, because he couldn't ever forget him._

_Maybe this was some kind of twisted karma. Instead of the crazed fanatic obsessing over the TV star, the TV star developing an unhealthy attachment to the fanatic._

_Kurt looked at him again – and, those __**eyes **__– literally raking his eyes up and down Blaine's form. Blaine couldn't quite find it in himself to feel violated by the invasive nature of the gaze._

_"Tell you what," Kurt eventually declared. "Let's start again."_

_"Like a re-do?" Blaine asked._

_"Take two," Kurt agreed. Then he smiled. "Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel. You are?"_

_Blaine smiled back. "Blaine Anderson," he said._

_There was something slightly devious about the expression that crossed Kurt's face. "Like the TV star?"_

_Was he flirting with him? Oh God, he didn't know._

_"Like the TV star," Blaine affirmed._

_"So, Blaine," Kurt asked. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"_

_"Well," Blaine started. Well, if they were flirting… "There's this really cute guy I know who's just come out of a coma." He shrugged. "I'm visiting."_

_"Lucky guy," came Kurt's response._

_This __**was **__flirting, right? Totally flirting._

_"You?" Blaine turned the question on Kurt._

_"Some jumped-up TV star hit me with his car."_

_"Really?" Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows. "God, what an asshole."_

_"I know, right?" Kurt replied. "Good thing he's pretty cute himself, though."_

_Blaine felt a slight blush begin to work its way across his cheekbones. "Is that so?" he murmured, unaware that Kurt would catch it._

_"Yeah, but I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself," Kurt said. "Wouldn't want to feed his ego. Might make him more of an asshole."_

_"And we can't have that, can we?"_

_This… This could work._

* * *

The picked at remains of Burt's low-fat dinner sat in front of him as he regarded Kurt apprehensively. When his son had told Burt all about his _boyfriend _– the sort of more than temporary sound of that word had momentarily shocked Burt – the mechanic had been initially both impressed and disappointed. Impressed because Burt could remember what it was like to be a teenager, sneaking around with a girl, and keeping a relationship secret for even a few days could be near impossible. Disappointed, though, because he and Kurt had always had a policy of honesty. They tried to never lie to each other, even if that meant keeping silent instead.

And to hear that Kurt had been out on dates when Burt thought he was hanging out with the girls from Glee meant that there had been quite the bit of lying going on the past week.

"So," Burt hedged, his eyes trained on Kurt. "This boy… How serious are things between you two?"

"We haven't had sex, if that's what you're asking," Kurt informed him bluntly.

"Good," came Burt's succinct answer. "But that's not what I was going to ask. I was just wondering how free I am to dislike him."

And there was the arching of an eyebrow that Kurt did – a gesture so reminiscent of Elizabeth it scared Burt sometimes.

"You're free to like him as much as you please," Kurt stated wryly. "Just bear in mind that I'm the one who cooks your meals."

"So, if I hate him?" Burt challenged, raising his own eyebrows.

"You'll never see another pizza again in your life."

"Good to know," muttered Burt.

Kurt just smiled sweetly.

"Kurt," Burt started slowly. "I just want to tell you that I appreciate you telling me this. You've already shown me that you're damned good at hiding things when you want to, but it puts my mind at rest that you are prepared to share this sort of thing with me. Besides, kiddo, you like this guy right? I trust your judgement. I'm sure he'll be a good kid."

_Let's not make assumptions until you meet him, Dad, _Kurt thought.

Any further conversation was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Kurt sprang out of his seat, chanting, "I'll get it," and ran to the front door.

* * *

Blaine felt like the lead in some crappy teen movie as he stood on Kurt's doorstep, seriously considering whether or not he should have brought flowers. The white-painted door loomed in front of him, the doorbell seeming to mock him as his hand hovered over it.

_Courage, Anderson, _Kurt's voice echoed in his head.

He sighed and pushed the doorbell.

Barely seconds later, the door was flung open and Blaine was greeted by Kurt's face, which lit up at the sight of Blaine. Kurt always looked at Blaine like that, like when he was around, he was all that mattered, like no matter what Blaine did, Kurt would never, ever judge him. It was nice.

"So," Blaine said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I heard I could find myself a hot date for tonight here."

"I heard he had a prior arrangement," Kurt replied archly. "Seems like you're going to have to settle for me."

"Never."

And, like it was clockwork for them, Kurt reached out with his hand, wrapped it around Blaine's tie, and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.

Blaine had pretty much always known he was gay. By the time he first came out, aged fourteen, he was absolutely certain.

Sure, he'd tried to be straight once. You know, date a few girls, make his mother happy, but it just hadn't been quite the same. It hadn't clicked. There was no – and he hated how utterly clichéd this made him sound – spark.

And then Evan happened.

He couldn't remember the tenuous link between him and Evan, the friend of a friend of a friend who introduced them, but he remembered their relationship. The rushed medley of firsts – kisses and flirting and movie dates and dances – and the feeling of lying awake in bed, thinking, _Oh God, I'm really falling for this guy._

He also remembered dropping by to surprise Evan after wrapping up early on set to find Evan, half-naked and reeking of sex, curled up in his old manager's arms.

He'd shouted so much in the following row. He'd tossed insult after insult and slur after slur out against Evan and somewhere, in between the cries of _dirty skank _and _lying cheating bastard, _Evan had started screaming back. How, _of course _he'd been cheating on Blaine because, _what the fuck kind of prude doesn't put out by the fourth date?! _And, maybe, _if you weren't so fucking far in the closet, you couldn't see what's going on all around you, you would have noticed that this has been going on for weeks!_

Then Blaine had just thrown his hands up in the air, voice hoarse and declared he was done. With the both of them.

He'd walked away from that confrontation manager-less and single.

He'd woken up the next day to find out that he could add 'outed' to that list of adjectives.

But, God, kissing Kurt, even if it was just a simple pressing together of their lips, just made everything seem to coalesce. It clicked. It wasn't like that sudden shock of relief that kissing Evan had been; it was something deeper, like an intimate connection, one that made him want to rip his heart open and bear it for all the world to see, to show Kurt and say, "Look, this is all of me. This is who I am."

But he didn't. He just smiled into his boyfriend's lips, revelling in the tickling feeling of Kurt's breath on his face.

"You know, if this happens every time I wear a full-length tie, I'm going to have to rethink my bow-tie addiction," Blaine said.

"Never," Kurt teased, mirroring Blaine's earlier tone. "Come on, let's go get the fatherly intimidation over with."

"Just checking, you did remember to hide his shotgun right?"

The only answer Blaine received to his panicked question was a melodic laugh from Kurt. All things considered, he wasn't so sure how he was supposed to take that.

Blaine loved the inside of Kurt's house. Sure, it couldn't really hold a candle up to the swanky and modern interior of his apartment in LA in terms of design, but it had one thing his LA apartment lacked: character. There was an undeniable flare of Kurt to everything in the house – little details and nit-picks – like the frill on a lampshade, or the tiny glass sculpture sat on the mantelpiece in the sitting room, or the equally countless and adorable family photos of Kurt and his dad and some of a beautiful woman, who, Blaine guessed, was Kurt's mother.

Blaine vaguely registered these details as Kurt led him to the kitchen and pushed the door open.

"Dad," Kurt said, pulling him into the room. "This is Blaine."

Burt Hummel looked near identical to his photographical counterpart, if not more worn. Blaine felt himself shrink under his gaze.

"Blaine," Burt repeated flatly.

Blaine guessed he should do something round about now, so he stuck his hand out, and thanked his acting abilities as he let a charming smile fall into place on his face.

"Blaine Anderson," he said by way of an introduction.

"I know who you are," Burt stated, his tone unreadable. Nonetheless, he took the actor's hand and shook it.

"It's nice to meet you," Blaine said, powering on through the small-talk routine he'd perfected.

Burt smiled, but the gesture seemed rather forced. He turned to his son. "Kurt, could you leave us alone for a few minutes?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "Remember what I said, Dad," he warned.

"It's nothing bad, Kiddo," Burt reassured. "I just want a quick talk."

Kurt gave his father another warning look, but gave Blaine's hand one last squeeze and filed out of the room.

Alone now, Burt stared Blaine up and down. If Blaine flinched, it was on instinct and intimidation alone.

Eventually, Burt sighed. "Relax, Kiddo, I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to talk without Kurt breathing down my neck." He paused. "Have a seat."

Feeling younger than he had in a long time, Blaine awkwardly seated himself on one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

"Now, Blaine, I'm going to be perfectly clear with you," Burt said. "You hit my son with your car."

Blaine flinched.

"Now, I know it wasn't your fault. Kurt has sworn up and down that he was pushed into the path of your car and, you know what? I believe him. That doesn't change the fact that I had to wait three long and painful weeks to see my son awake again after one of my part-timers showed me pictures of him sprawled across the front of your car."

Burt took a deep breath. "You make him happy, Blaine. I don't think I'm the only one who's noticed how much more he's been smiling these few weeks, so for now, I'm going to trust you with him."

Blaine stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for the 'but' clause. The almost mandated threat of violence against his person on the off chance he hurt Kurt.

But it never came. Instead, Burt just called out to Kurt, telling him they were done.

"I—" Blaine stumbled for the words he wanted to say. "I will. Take care of him, Mr Hummel, I mean. I know that because of how well-known I am, it may be hard, but—"

Burt cut him off, "You may be famous, but you're only eighteen, Blaine." He said, "Kurt's not stupid and if there were ever a disillusioned teen, it's him. He knows what he's getting into."

It was at this moment that Kurt entered the room again. "Still got all your limbs, Blaine?" he asked teasingly, but his eyes were serious as they looked up at his father.

"All the important ones at least," Blaine replied with a shrug and an easy grin.

Kurt's hand wormed its way back into Blaine's palm. The ex-Cheerio stared questioningly at his father.

Burt's answer was curt and to the point.

"Have a nice date."

* * *

_When Blaine arrived at the hospital, Kurt was typing madly on his laptop, headphones on, blasting some sort of music into his ears. Kurt was so deeply ingrained in what he was doing, he didn't notice Blaine until the TV star put a hand on his leg, making him jump._

_"What are you doing?" Blaine asked, gesturing to the laptop as Kurt took his headphones off._

_"Writing graphic gay porn," Kurt deadpanned._

_"Oh." Words failed Blaine. "How's that going?"_

_"Fine, I suppose. I've found that the Microsoft Word synonym function is fantastic for coming up with as many euphemisms as possible for…" Kurt trailed off, spotting the look on Blaine's face. "Blaine, I'm just messing with you. I'm filling in online application forms."_

_"I'm pretty sure you told me you were only a Junior," Blaine began, but Kurt cut him off._

_"Not for college," he told Blaine. "My dad wants me to transfer from McKinley. Anywhere. I'm just filling in the forms for any of the possible schools."_

_"Have you applied for Dalton?" Blaine asked, gazing over Kurt's shoulder at his laptop screen curiously. "It's in Westerville."_

_"No, actually," Kurt said, bringing up google and searching for the school. "It looks expensive."_

_"I saw how much compensation my lawyers forced you to take," Blaine stated. "You can afford it now. And it really is a great school."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Before I made my big break on _Rational Fear,_" Blaine explained, "I attended Dalton for like a week. It's got a great curriculum and they have a zero-tolerance policy on harassment, which is enforced."_

_"Enforced?" asked Kurt._

_"Yeah. On my second day there, this guy wrote homophobic slurs on my facebook wall. The next thing I know, the administration have suspended him. He did it again and they called up his parents and told them to take him home – permanently."_

_"Wow," Kurt breathed. "Sounds kind of…" he searched for the right word, "amazing?"_

_"It was." Blaine shook his head. "If I hadn't gone into acting, I can totally see myself having graduated from there."_

_Kurt sighed and shoved his laptop off his lap. "Let's talk about something else."_

_"OK," Blaine agreed easily. "What do you want to talk about?"_

_"Let's talk fashion. You read Vogue?"_

_"Is the sky blue?"_

_"Favourite cover on three. 1… 2..."_

* * *

"You know, when you said dinner and a movie," Kurt stated dryly, "I didn't think it was going to be a movie-on-demand and my choice of room service in your hotel room."

They were curled up on the lavish sheets of the bed in Blaine's hotel room, staring at the TV on the wall opposite as a young female actress blinked repetitively at the camera in an effort to express some form of emotion.

"You know, there are thousands of people out there who would be willing to trade places with you in a heartbeat," Blaine informed Kurt half-seriously. In the background, the music swelled, but Blaine had long since stopped listening in favour of gazing at Kurt.

"What?" Kurt snorted, flicking a piece of popcorn at Blaine. "So they too can enjoy the delicacies of stale popcorn and barely in date candy to the sub-par romantic soundtrack of a crappy film?"

"No," Blaine corrected. "I meant alone with me in my hotel room."

"Ah," Kurt mused. "Of course. Truly, I am blessed to be in the presence of The _Great _Blaine Anderson."

Somehow, subconsciously, they had inched closer and closer together in the previous conversation, crossing boundaries and invading each other's personal space like it was natural – instinctual – to be this close. Blaine could feel Kurt's warm breath on his face and was sure Kurt could also feel his.

Kurt was so close, his eyes so all-seeing, that Blaine felt somewhat naked there in front of Kurt. It was like Kurt could see all his secrets, all his insecurities, and it made Blaine feel a strange cross between safe and vulnerable.

In that second of connection, Blaine forgot completely about their banter and pathetic attempts at flirting. He just stared quietly at Kurt. And Kurt stared quietly back.

They didn't watch much more of the movie that night.

* * *

_"Why are you putting up with me?"_

_Above his magazine, Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"_

_Blaine paced up and down in front of Kurt's hospital bed. "I mean, why are you indulging me?" Blaine asked. "You keep letting me come and visit you and you're nice and you just seem to like to pretend like I wasn't the one who put you in that bloody hospital bed and I just can't pretend anymore, because although you smile and say it wasn't my fault, it was, OK, and that kills me, but it's true."_

_Kurt sighed and put his magazine down._

_"Do you want the honest truth, Blaine?" Kurt asked tiredly._

_Blaine nodded._

_"You hit me with a car," Kurt said bluntly. "I don't really remember much about what happened, but I can tell you this now: it hurt like hell. But the accident was not your fault, OK. It could have been anyone in that car, but, you know what?"_

_Blaine stared. "What?" he asked quietly._

_"I'm really, really glad it was you."_

* * *

Kurt ended up quietly tip-toeing into the house about fifteen minutes after his curfew. As he crept through the door into the darkened hallway, ditching his keys as he went, he thanked his lucky stars that his dad hadn't waited up for him.

At least he did until he walked into the living room to find Burt waiting for him, dramatic lighting and all, true Bond movie villain style.

"So," Burt said, drawing out the syllable. "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt bit his lip. "Blaine Anderson," he repeated.

"When were you thinking of letting me in on the fact that your special someone was an extremely well-known TV-star?" Burt asked, face unreadable.

Kurt ducked his head sheepishly. "Soon?"

"Kurt, I'm not mad," Burt reassured. "I'm just worried. I know you're intelligent, Kiddo, sometimes far too intelligent for your own good, and I know you're not the type to jump into things headfirst, but I need to know that you aren't just chasing after the idea of Blaine, rather than Blaine himself."

Kurt took a deep breath, spotting the concern built into his father's expression. It had always been hard, Kurt knew, for his Dad to fully understand what he was going through – what he had gone through.

Don't get him wrong, his Dad was great – beyond great – and he wouldn't trade him for the world, but growing up in Lima, knowing that he was different and knowing that the world was going to hate him for it … Burt would never really understand. There was just this constant pressure to hide everything about you from the world and it _sucked, _but it was his life, and it helped shape Kurt into the person who he was today.

But Blaine… Blaine got that part of Kurt. He got it in a way Kurt didn't think anyone else really would because he got _Kurt. _This wasn't about Kurt building Blaine up around his public image; this was Kurt, the Kurt of right here and right now, falling little by little, drip by drop, more in love with Blaine.

And he was, he realised belatedly. He was falling for Blaine and, as scary and exhilarating and terrifying as it was, it was also relieving. It made sense.

Kurt could have spewed that whole lot out to his Dad.

He didn't.

Instead, he took a deep breath and brought his eyes up to his father's.

"Blaine is scared of thunder," he told Burt, "because when he was younger, he spent three hours locked inside a logging cabin in a storm before his parents realised he was missing. He won't eat raw tomatoes, but loves them when they're cooked, and he can't stand the taste of any form of sea food."

"Kurt—" Burt began, but was cut off by his son.

"His favourite word is 'dodgy' and when I speak, he always stares at my face as if he's trying to memorise every last bit of my bone structure. He's a hopeless romantic and can quote The Princess Bride verbatim. And, Dad, when I was in a coma, he searched every single room in that hospital to find me and apologize."

Kurt sighed. "That's the Blaine I'm dating, Dad," he explained. "Not _The _Blaine Anderson, not Gavin Hope, not even Blanderson. To me, he's just Blaine and I really, really like him, Dad. And I need you to accept that, because despite the shouted slogans and slurs of all the bigots and Neanderthals out there, yours is the only opinion I truly care about and I _need_ your acceptance."

Burt watched his son for a few further seconds. Then, he stretched his arm out. "C'mere," he said, pulling Kurt into a crushing hug.

"You really like this guy, huh?" Burt murmured into his son's hair.

"Truly," Kurt affirmed.

"And he makes you happy?"

"Very."

Burt ruffled his son's hair, ignoring the squawks of protest it elicited. "Then I guess I like him too."

* * *

_Blaine stared at Kurt's sleeping form. Two days. Two more days until Kurt was let out of hospital. Two more days until Kurt could run, run as fast as he could, away from Blaine._

_It scared the shit out of him._

_It hadn't quite sunk in to Blaine that he needed Kurt. It wasn't so much a case of obsession anymore, or of admiration, but more of like._

_Oh God, he was so __**in like **__with Kurt Hummel._

_Blaine stared at Kurt as he slept._

_He really wasn't sure which thought scared him more._

* * *

It seemed like they never had enough time.

As Tuesday dawned, sunny but with a bitter chill in the air, the fact that Blaine was going to be leaving Ohio finally sunk in to Kurt's thought-process.

His relationship with Blaine had been complicated right from the start, Kurt supposed. He had yet to get the full story from either Finn or Blaine, but apparently the TV star had been so wracked with guilt he'd started visiting Kurt in hospital after the crash. Blaine had also apparently been there when Kurt finally woke from his coma, which was kind of perfect in a completely over the top and clichéd kind of way.

The initial, proper, both-parties-awake-and-participating meeting between him and Blaine was hidden in a haze of painkillers for Kurt and he vaguely remembered giggling at Blaine's hair, or doing something equally mortifying. It was hard to reconcile their status as strangers from then with their closeness now.

When they took Kurt off the heavier drugs, Blaine had started visiting him every day, sometimes just sitting with him in the room, and watching Kurt in this distinct way that made him wonder if he was supposed to feel flattered or uncomfortable. The transition between the chronic awkwardness to their relaxed friendship-turned-relationship was as gradual as it could be given that it happened in a mere two weeks.

Kurt could still feel the phantom ghost of their first kiss on his lips, still recall the sensation of fisting his hands in Blaine's hair gel laden hair, hear the breathy whisper of, "What are we doing?"

And his own reply: "I don't know. I don't — I don't care."

It didn't seem all that long ago to him.

"I'll miss you," Kurt murmured into Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine's arms pulled Kurt closer into the hug. "I'll miss you too." A reluctant pause. "_But_, I really do have to go now, though. I'm going to miss my flight if I don't hurry up."

Kurt sighed, the sound elongated and depressing. "I kind of wish I could see you off at the airport, but I have to get back to school in time for the end of my lunch break," he explained sadly.

Blaine shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Kurt. This is more than enough."

"When can I see you again?"

Blaine sighed. "I don't know. This new project, _Collisions, _means that even after I wrap up on _Rational Fear, _I'm needed wherever they are planning on filming it. I mean, the scripts aren't even finalised for it yet, and they haven't even decided on all the cast members, so when they finally get around to location scouting, I could literally end up anywhere."

"This sucks," Kurt pouted.

"I know, but Kurt…" Blaine drifted off. "I care about you, Kurt. I've said it before, but I'll say it again. This isn't just some sort of fling to me. I've always been an all-or-nothing kind of guy and Kurt, you are not nothing."

Kurt flushed shyly at Blaine's words. "You're not nothing either, Blaine," he mumbled.

Blaine smiled at that, but pulled away from Kurt. Kurt watched somewhat numbly as Blaine shifted each of his heavy bags out of the room one by one. Once everything was moved into the corridor, Blaine turned back to Kurt.

"You move me, Kurt," he said lowly. "Don't ever forget that."

And then he was gone, the hotel room door clicking shut behind him. Kurt stood stock still for a few seconds, his brain going into overdrive trying to figure out what Blaine meant.

Then he too was gone, sprinting from the room, skidding around the corridor's corners until he caught up with Blaine. There was no tie for him to grab this time, so instead he clawed his hand onto Blaine's wrist and spun him around so they were facing.

"You move me too." The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Blaine's eyes widened as Kurt leaned forward and kissed him again.

They'd come a long way from chemical urges and pent up sexual tension in a whited-out hospital room – a long way from apologies and excuses.

And though they weren't saying it out right, they both knew it was true.

_You move me._

Their very own special little code.

* * *

Ohio was just so .. dull. So very backward, so very … quaint.

Well, that's what he had always thought, but, looking down at the captured candid on the LCD screen on his camera… well, it turned out he may have been wrong after all.

A few quick moves of his fingers and the camera's SD card popped out of its holder and into his palm. He fiddled with it absently, unable to stop the diabolical smirk that had worked its way up onto his face.

He pocketed it before pulling out his phone and hitting '1' on speed dial.

"Hey, Dad, I was thinking… Maybe moving back to Ohio for school wouldn't be so bad after all."

Who was he to run away from something as potentially scandalous as this, after all? Ohio just got a whole lot more interesting and he'd be damned if he was missing out on any of that.

"What? No, Dad, Dalton sounds _perfect_…"

* * *

**_Blanderson is BACK!_**

_These past few weeks, we've heard a lot about our favourite brooding bishounen, most specifically about his scandalous car accident, in which he hit a highschool student with his car. The following pictures that were leaked on Twitter of the accident caused such a stir that there was talk of Blaine losing his job as lead actor on his debut program, _Rational Fear.

_It eventually did come out that the poor kid shown in the pictures was actually pushed in the front of the car and the true perpetrator is currently in police custody, law enforcement officials tell us. Adding to the happily ever after was the news that the injured party finally came out of his coma just over three weeks ago._

_Until now, Blaine has apparently been hiding out in Ohio, "reconnecting with his family and coming to terms with what happened," but yesterday, Blaine Anderson was spotted by none other than myself leaving the arrivals hall at LAX, laden with luggage._

_"Yes, I'm back," he informed this reporter when I cornered him in a queue for the coffee shop. "After all, I couldn't miss _Rational Fear_'s second season."_

_He paid for his coffee and left with a smile and a wave._

_When I caught up with Blanderson's manager, she disclosed that Blaine was back for a while. "After he finishes up shooting it [_Rational Fear_], Blaine has another project that he's going to be working on. It's still in its early days, so that's all I can tell you, but he's very excited about this one."_

_Why has he been in Ohio so long? Why did he seem so much more at ease after this extended vacation? And, more importantly, what is this new project he's working in?_

_We shall have to wait and see._

From S-P-O-T-T-E-D, written by Jessica Channings, November 15th 2010

* * *

_My favourite line from this chapter has to be a toss up between Blaine's, "God, what an asshole." and also Blaine's "I've always been an all-or-nothing kind of guy and Kurt, you are not nothing."_

_I've had that segment between Kurt and Blaine saved on my notes for ages, trying to find a place to fit it in._

_You guys have actually gotten a more complete version of this chapter than S&C because I kind of rewrote sections of it today. Anyway, enjoy. Let me know how I did._

_-Kaputt_


	6. Centripetal Force

**Centripetal Force**

_[VIDEO]_

_Rational Fear season two! Who's psyched?_

_Is that even a legitimate question? OF COURSE I'M PSYCHED!_

_Hsufshgjkshjfhjshfjs It's happening! IT'S HAPPENING!_

_Oh, Blainers, is that a shower scene I spy? *Swoon*_

_Hello new phone background…_

_JFC. KALKDJSFHJAFHJDDFJKDJF COMPREHENSIVE THOUGHT FAILS ME._

* * *

Kurt's last days at McKinley somehow managed to pass without incident. He'd long since stopped attending Glee – at Rachel's request and, if he was frank, not having to worry about accusations of 'jumping ship' and 'spying' was kind of nice – and had slowly but surely packed all of his essentials up into boxes ready for the move to boarding school.

He buried himself in advance reading for Dalton and threw himself into the prep work they'd sent over. It wasn't that the syllabus was necessarily that different from McKinley, but the classes were at a higher level and Kurt could tell that they went into everything in greater depth.

Mostly, though, Kurt was just looking for distraction from Blaine.

Kurt wasn't one of those people who _needed _to be in a relationship. If he was honest, he'd rather be alone than be with someone he didn't feel anything for, so it wasn't like he was feeling starved of affection, but…

It was Blaine.

Blaine who was sweet and a self-professed screw-up when it came to romace. Blaine who called him whenever they both had a free moment. Blaine who sent him one word texts, like _courage _and _resilience _and _perfect. _Blaine whose smile made Kurt's insides twist and turn in this oh-so-teenage-ish way.

Blaine who lived in LA.

Blaine who Kurt missed terribly.

It was like a constant longing – one which ate away at the back of his mind. He always felt like he was missing something important, but couldn't remember what it was, and then Blaine would call and Kurt would hear his voice and, _oh God, I missed you._

Lessons at McKinley seemed to just all blend into one. It was no longer about getting through the day to come home and sleep, but about getting through each lesson to call Blaine.

If Burt had noticed the sudden shift in Kurt's life, he didn't comment on it.

Another part of his life that had changed was Finn.

Finn now drove Kurt to and from school every day and, during the fifteen minute car journey, he and Kurt had evolved from their icy standoffishness to something resembling a friendship. Finn would bitch – though he would thoroughly deny it was anything of the sort – about whatever drama crap was going down in the New Directions and Kurt would listen, inserting all the correct platitudes and advice.

And

"Hey Kurt," Finn said as Kurt slid into the car on the morning of his last day at McKinley.

"Morning Finn," Kurt said back with a smile, pausing when he heard the introductory chords of _Defying Gravity _begin to fill the car. "Did Rachel leave her CD in here or something?"

"What? Oh, no I borrowed it," Finn explained. "I figured that since it's your last day and all, I'd give you a break from all the classic rock."

Kurt laughed. "Oh thank God," he said. "I wasn't going to say anything, but…" He trailed off when he spotted Finn looking at him oddly.

"Kurt." Finn's voice came out oddly strangled. "I'm really, really glad you're OK."

"Me too," quipped Kurt.

"And," Finn began, but stopped immediately afterwards. He took a deep breath. "We're like brothers, right?"

_Brothers._

Brothers. It sounded oddly … right.

"Yeah," Kurt breathed. "Of course we are."

"Cool," Finn grinned and Kurt thought, _is this one of those important moments? _Then Finn turned back to the steering wheel. "Just so you know, you're totally the younger one."

"I'm two months older than you, Finn," Kurt pointed out.

Finn laughed.

Kurt just smiled in return, unable to bring himself to pull a bitch-face.

* * *

_Last day at McKinley! Wish me luck. Xxx_

Blaine was pretty sure there was a humongous grin spread across his face the moment he read the text. In fact, he was certain, because seconds later, someone pointed it out to him.

"You reading porn or something?" asked Wendy from beside him. "'Cause that would cause quite the media stir if it got out."

Blaine quickly locked his phone screen before he shot his best glare at her. "It's moments like these, Wendy, that I wonder why I ever hired you."

That was a lie and they both knew it. Blaine knew exactly why he had hired Wendy and it had nothing to do with her demon-like efficiency, obsessive organisational skills and her freaky proficiency at damage control.

"Don't we all," Wendy laughed. "I sometimes find myself wondering why I ever asked for a job, but then my bank statement arrives and well… I guess it assuages the apprehension."

"Are you trying to tell me I pay you too much?" Blaine raised his eyebrows.

"Oh no," Wendy insisted. "I'm trying to tell you that you pay me _adequately._" She smiled and turned back to her Blackberry, scrolling through the events planned for today. "So, today you're schedule is pretty tied up with _Rational Fear. _Whilst you crack on with that, I have an emergency meeting with the crew on _Collisions _– something about a script change."

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't they?" Blaine mused. "I thought that they'd finalised most of the cast – seems kinda odd, don't you think?"

Wendy sighed and put away her phone. "To be honest, I don't know what this is about," she said. "The pilot script was pretty good in my opinion, but hey, they just said something about demographics and selling and 'a new angle' that they want to work the show from."

Wendy paused, regarding Blaine closely. "Speaking of, I want to ask you, Blaine – are you sure about this? The interview's not until a month's time; we have plenty of time to cancel if you want—"

Blaine cut her off. "I'm sure."

"It's just," she started, but stopped abruptly. "Blaine, you've been pretty tight-lipped about this. I guess I just want to know what's changed."

Blaine pressed his lips together, not sure how to answer.

"I'm only asking, Blaine, because that's going to be the first question out of that interviewer's mouth when they hear about this," Wendy explained.

"I guess I just realised that the reasons I thought I was doing this," Blaine eventually answered, "aren't the real reasons that I have. And I want to change that."

Wendy didn't seem convinced, but she didn't bring it up again. She just sighed – she was getting really good at that – and chivvied Blaine into the car to get to the set. Blaine was kind of happy that she dropped it.

Because he really didn't want anybody to try and talk him out of it.

* * *

It had been two weeks.

Two blissful weeks.

It had been really too good to last.

Kurt blinked the tears out of his eyes as he stared at his now bright-blue complexion. Well, it could have been worse, he supposed. At least blue brought out his eyes.

The slushie-facial, however, had almost been worth it for Finn's reaction. The cry of, "What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole?" and the perfectly executed body-slam Finn performed, sending the offending jock straight into a wall of lockers. And, if Kurt choked down a vindictive smile when he saw the jock wince, no one commented.

It was nice, Kurt guessed, to know that he wasn't alone in this anymore.

That didn't make him feel any less bitter about this.

Why? Why now? Why when he was finally feeling accepted – or at least untouchable – when he had finally come to terms with everything, did this have to happen? It was his last day, for crying out loud. Was it too much to ask for one more measly, stupid day of peace and quiet?

As he ran the water in the sink until it was warm, Kurt picked his phone out of his pocket. He didn't know why he did it, if it was out of a need for sympathy, or because he felt like crap and needed to tell someone, but he snapped a picture of himself, the blue ice chunks still dripping off the ends of his hair, and sent it to Blaine.

**[PICTURE]  
Blue's really my colour, huh?**

Blaine's reply was instant, as always.

_Oh my God, Kurt! What happened?_

Kurt stared at the text on his phone screen for a long time before he eventually typed back a reply.

**It wouldn't be McKinley without a classic send-off to the one out kid in this charming little patch of eternal torment.**

_That's horrible, Kurt. Is that slushie?_

There was a large wait before he could reply this time, as he had already dunked his head under the water when Blaine's reply came through.

**Raspberry – my favourite. However did they guess?**

_Kurt, I can't call you right now, because I'm kind of in hair and make-up, but as soon as I get free I'm calling you right away. Oh my God… It's even worse, 'cause I can't even say that I can't believe they did this to you. 'Cause I know how highschool works and, oh my God, whatever they say, Kurt, it means nothing, because you're amazing, OK?_

And there. That was it. That was why Kurt had sent Blaine the text. Sure, he was bitter as hell about it. Sure, he felt so, so angry and he wasn't even sure who it was at. Sure, he was alone right now, in the _girls'_ bathroom, trying to clean flavoured corn syrup out of his hair.

But he also had a near perfect boyfriend who somehow always knew what to say.

Kurt took in his drenched reflection in the bathroom mirror. He picked up the phone and wrote his reply.

**Blaine, it's fine. I'll be fine. I've dealt with this before.**

_That doesn't mean you should have to._

**It doesn't matter, Blaine. Honestly, I'm fine.**

_If you say so. I have to go now, but we're talking about this later, OK? Xx_

**OK.**

_And Kurt?_

**Yes?**

_You move me._

Kurt stared at the phone and then back up at his reflection.

He was a mess. The insides of his ears still had slushie in them, he was pretty sure there was still blue stuff in his eyelashes, and, don't even get him started on his hair, so…

So, why was he smiling?

* * *

"Blaine, do you sing?"

Those were the first words out of Wendy's mouth when she picked Blaine up from set after his last scene of the day. Blaine had raised his eyebrows above his cup of – admittedly lukewarm – coffee as Wendy half-dragged, half-led him to her parked car.

Wendy owned a banged up purple Volkswagen, which, all things considered, should not still be running, the rust-bucket that it was. Blaine never really felt all too safe in the car – and it had a crap carbon efficiency rating – but for some reason unfathomable to Blaine, Wendy loved the thing and Blaine was too polite to indicate he felt otherwise too.

"That depends on how you define sing," Blaine hedged warily, shrugging out of Wendy's controlling grip and yanked open the car door.

"When you open your mouth, do you sound like a dying cat?" Wendy asked bluntly. "Or an archangel choir?"

They both slid into the car, slamming the doors shut behind them. Wendy turned the key in the ignition and the engine flared to life, causing the entire car to shake as they pulled out and onto the road.

"Not quite at heavenly level, but I can sing, yes," Blaine admitted, sighing. "But, I don't really…" he paused uncertainly. "I don't really … _do_ that anymore." He shook his head. "Why?"

Wendy hummed thoughtfully, tapping the steering wheel. "Remember what I said this morning about my meeting with the writing-production team for _Collisions_?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well," Wendy continued. "They've _completely _overhauled the entire pilot script and entirely rejigged the overarching plot of the other episodes. We're talking full-on rewrite here."

Blaine gaped openly at her. "Can they even do that?"

He knew full well the effort that went into a pilot script, having met Jeremy halfway through the older man's first forage into the experience. To rewrite a show that already had backing behind it seemed somewhat foolish and more than a little bit crazy.

"Apparently so," Wendy mused. "Well-written as it was, they didn't think it would sell. Supposedly, they were told by the network to spruce it up and make it more appealing to teenagers – adding a gimmick, so to speak."

_That _rarely worked, Blaine could say. One of the reasons _Rational Fear _worked so well was that it was an overall simple concept made complex by the writing and acting. "Gavin Hope grows up," had been what Jeremy called the first season, back before the series exploded. It was a show about disillusionment and harsh realism; no one would ever accuse them of pulling any punches in either the dark humour or the convoluted relationships Gavin cycled through.

_Collisions _had seemed relatively cheery by comparison.

But Blaine wasn't going to judge. "Like Bucks Fizz with the skirts?" he asked.

"Something like that, I guess," Wendy agreed, but Blaine could tell she had little to no idea what he was talking about. "They've changed the entire plot, though, to fit this gimmick in."

Blaine still hadn't figured out why they would do that – why they would even contemplate doing that. And why was Wendy telling him, unless—

"Did they cut my character or something?"

Wendy tapped her hands against the steering wheel again, peering forward to check the view in front of the car. "Nothing like that," she assured Blaine absent-mindedly. "They still want your character to show up – because, seriously, Blaine, you're hot shit right now. They'd be stupid to write you out of the show. That's not the issue. It's the central plotline. The scripts no longer about Greenpower Clubs. It's about – and get this – _show choir._"

She said _show choir _with so much emotion in her tone that Blaine immediately flashed back to Kurt's impression of one of his friends, when he had stood, hands on hips, and shrieked passionately about how there was _nothing ironic about show choir!_

"Blaine?" Wendy's voice drew him back to the present. Blaine blinked.

"Show choir? Like Glee Club?"

"Yep," confirmed Wendy. "Lots of singing and dancing and show tunes. They're also introducing your character earlier, as well. Originally, you wouldn't appear until episode eighteen, but they've bumped it up to thirteen."

"Oh, OK," Blaine said, because, honestly? He had no idea how to react to any of this news.

When he'd signed up for this whole _Collisions _malarkey, he'd been fully prepared for everything the role would entail, both for his professional and personal lives. He was supposed to play Andrew Delfraga, a devilishly handsome gay student at the local prep school. Andrew was going to act as a mentor-slash-potential-love interest for Liam, the show's resident gay kid.

Singing, however, had not been in the deal.

Andrew was, and he could quote, 'not too feminine, but not too butch – not obviously gay, but his sexuality is a big part of who he is and he's not hiding it.' Whereas Liam had struggled with his sexuality, Andrew was going to be confident and charming – completely at ease in his own skin.

Still nothing about singing.

Though, it did strike Blaine that if this was the role that had been created specifically for him, this was probably how the public saw him. And he _really_ needed to give Wendy a bonus for that.

Wendy continued obliviously, "Yeah. That was mostly what the meeting today was about. They wanna know if you can sing so they know whether or not to add you to the show choir storyline." She paused. "What do you want me to tell them?"

Blaine sighed. He hadn't really sung at all since… since before _Rational Fear. _But he could sing. He knew he sounded fine and that he could hit all the right notes, but…

_Courage, Anderson._

"Tell them I'm willing to sing for them if they want," Blaine told Wendy, shrugging easily. "I'm happy with whatever they want my character to do."

Wendy smiled. "I'll make a note of it. Anyway, they sent through the revised pilot. I like it better than the old one – oh, and it's got a new title. _Collision Course, _because of some sort of analogy-slash-metaphor they make in the pilot. They've kind of done a good job, dare I say it, and the whole singing thing works. And the dialogue is a lot sharper. It's kinda like High School Musical meets Veronica Mars with all the snark, just, you know minus all the discussions of rape, murder and parental abandonment."

"Sounds good," Blaine agreed. "Did you pick up a copy for me to flick through?"

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Who do you take me for, Anderson? Of course I picked one up for you. It's in my bag."

Blaine nodded and turned his gaze away from his agent and fixed his eyes upon the shifting scenery out of the window.

He missed Kurt.

* * *

Kurt dipped the nail-brush into the pot, coating it in a layer of polish, before drawing it out again and stroking it across his toe-nail. He didn't really have a thing for nail-polish, but it was a nice colour and Mercedes had insisted.

Speaking of his fabulous best-friend, she was currently sprawled over her bed covers, trying very, very hard to guess the passcode on his phone. Part of Kurt was concerned as to what would happen when she figured it out. Mostly, though, he was amused by how frustrated she was getting with it.

"Come on!" she cried as the phone locked her out for a further five minutes. "You can't have just picked random numbers. That's just so un-you, Kurt."

Irritated, Mercedes threw the phone onto her bed and turned to Kurt.

"I don't see why it's so integral to your well-being that you crack my phone, Mercedes," Kurt informed her, stretching out his leg to admire the colour on his toes. "I mean, you know you can just ask me about the guy, right?"

"Of course I can just ask you," Mercedes said, sighing. She flopped back on her bed. "That's not the point."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at her. "And the point is?"

Mercedes opened her mouth to say something, but shortly closed it. "Never mind," she deflected. "I like that colour on you."

Kurt quirked his eyebrows, but didn't push. He let a lot of crap go now, having long since sussed that people cut you more slack about stuff if you were prepared to do the same for them. It was all about give-and-take – a part of his relationship with Blaine which Kurt was still trying to figure out.

Blaine's post-slushie call had been short and concise, but mostly Kurt had just been glad to hear his voice. They'd texted sporadically throughout the rest of the day, each and every word of those tiny messages so very, very _Blaine – _and Kurt was proud to admit he had finally mastered the art of texting through a pencil case – but the fragmented text conversation really had nothing on seeing Blaine in person.

He meant, sure, he got that Blaine was busy – understood that he had a crazy schedule – but it didn't stop him from missing Blaine like a lost limb.

That, Kurt supposed, was probably why he'd agreed to have one last girly night in with Mercedes, even if it meant he was going to be interrogated within an inch of his life about 'Chandler'.

"So, where did you meet Chandler, anyway?" Mercedes asked him. "I mean, there aren't that many gay guys around in Ohio and you've been confined to the hospital for most of your free time these past few weeks."

"He's not from Ohio," Kurt told Mercedes. "He lives in LA."

"LA?" Mercedes' eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "What on earth was he doing in Ohio?"

"I know," Kurt sighed. "If I ever got out of Ohio, I don't think even the apocalypse could force me back. He had a personal crisis, though. We met at the hospital."

"How romantic," intoned Mercedes dryly.

Kurt sighed happily. "Yeah," he murmured to himself. "It was."

"Oh boy, you are _one_ smitten kitten, aren't you?" Mercedes prodded him playfully. "So, on a scale of one to bed-me-now, how hot is this guy?"

"Oh, Mercedes, he's so very _dreamy,_" Kurt enthused. It felt odd, to be on the receiving end of this talk, instead of talking to Mercedes about her crushes; it was an interesting shift in the dynamic.

"Dreamier than Blaine Anderson?" Mercedes asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

Kurt smiled to himself. "Maybe," he said coyly. "I think I'd have to think about that one."

"And does Chandler know about your little ex-crush on Blaine Anderson?" Mercedes teased.

Kurt's response was automatic, almost instinctual. "I didn't have a crush on Blaine Anderson!"

"Really? Well, that's too bad…"

"Mercedes, what did you do?"

"Nothing… Well, I guess I just figured out your phone's passcode."

* * *

**I just thought you should know that I think Blaine Anderson is the sexiest beast to ever walk the planet. I hope this won't affect our relationship! Xoxo**

_Kurt?_

**Ahifhsjdfhsdjgfhgufgh**

**Fjdkfdaarir**

_Kurt, I'm getting worried._

**Iiiiireuerueutiiteieiidkaskjdaka!""jsdgj09J**

_This really isn't all that amusing, Kurt._

**S**

**Sorry, Mercedes grabbed my phone. She figured out my passcode. I got my phone back, though, and she's now occupying herself with waggling her eyebrows at me as I text.**

_So you don't think I'm the sexiest beast you've ever seen? I'm hurt._

**Oh, you'll get over it. I mean, for every one of us doubters, you have at least a thousand stalker-fans, who think sliced bread ain't got nothing on you.**

_I really only care about what you think, though._

**Don't let the fanbase know. They might murder me in my sleep out of irrational jealousy.**

_Would they really? That's just a bit concerning. I like my boyfriend completely un-murdered and in one piece, thank you very much._

**Don't worry, sweetheart. They wouldn't get far; I sleep with a pair of blades by my bed.**

_Now, you see, I'm not sure whether or not I find your previous statement, or that one, more disturbing._

**I'll let you decide ;D **

_What was your phone's passcode, anyway? You really should use random numbers. Harder to crack._

**It was… Oh, you're going to tease me.**

_Probably, but you've just made me more curious :P_

**Fine. It was your birthday. Happy?**

_How do you know when my birthday is?_

_Wait, stupid question._

_It's on my Wikipedia page, isn't it?_

**And on all ninety-eight hundred of your fansites, yes.**

_Huh. 9800? That's quite a large number._

**You're *quite* the famous guy, Anderson.**

_I'm also quite oblivious it turns out. :P I have to go to bed now – early shoot tomorrow._

**Sleep well. Sweet dreams. Xx**

_You too. Have fun with Mercedes. And look on the bright side, at least I know you're not going to forget my birthday now._

**We'll have to see if it gets to that. Goodnight, Blaine.**

_Goodnight, Kurt._

**And, Blaine?**

_Yes?_

**You move me too.**

_God, I miss you so much.  
[UNSENT, SAVED IN DRAFTS, 10:53 PM]_

* * *

Finn was being remarkably sensitive about everything, Kurt noticed later. While the Finn of old tended to blunder around tactlessly, this Finn seemed to actually filter what he said almost religiously. He was an odd cross between relaxed and uptight every second he was around Kurt, like he was wound up so tight he could snap at any point.

It was actually Finn who drove Kurt to Dalton to hand in the final bits of paperwork for his transfer, as neither Kurt nor Burt could drive again yet. He even fetched Kurt some coffee whilst he was making small talk with the lovely old lady behind the secretary's desk at Dalton (her name was Mrs Shrewesbury and she apparently had a grandson _just _like Kurt. Kurt found that hard to believe; he was one of a kind, really).

It was also Finn who told Rachel to back off when she screeched at Kurt about _fraternizing with the enemy._ And, it was Finn who practically smashed Karofsky into a locker if he even so much as _looked _at Kurt. It was Finn who had lectured Mercedes on being mature about Kurt leaving when she accused him of deserting them.

And, when they dropped Kurt's stuff at the dorms, it was Finn who carried all of Kurt's boxes into his new room, including the twenty heavier-than-a-neutron-star ones with Kurt's wardrobe in them. The whole ordeal made Kurt feel kind of useless, but very touched by the gesture all the same.

And then, on Kurt's first day at Dalton, Finn had given Kurt a once-over and then crushed the surprised countertenor into a hug.

"I'm gonna miss you, dude," Finn had sniffed.

"You too," Kurt had stammered out. "Bro," he tacked onto the end.

Finn hugged him tighter.

* * *

**_On_A_ThadDiet:_**_ New new-student alert!_

**_StNick:_**_ What?_

**_AsianDomination:_**_ Seriously?_

**_David-Is-Cool:_**_ This can't be right, right?_

**_On_A_ThadDiet:_**_ No, my friends, it's legit. He starts tomorrow. Overheard him chatting up the secretary a few minutes ago._

**_David-is-Cool:_**_ Thad, that's sick. Mrs Shrewesbury is sixty-four. And she has grandkids._

**_On_A_ThadDiet:_**_ So you guys don't want the details?_

**_AsianDomination:_**_ Of course we do._

**_StNick:_**_ You can't lead in with that and say nothing, Thad._

**_On_A_ThadDiet: _**_Can't I?_

**_DaJeffster:_**_ Stop playing with us, Thad, and spill, or I'm smearing peanut butter over your pillow again._

**_On_A_ThadDiet: _**_Fine, fine, fine. Brown hair, medium height. Mrs S said he asked about the Warblers. He was kinda cute, too._

**_David-is-cool: _**_You see, it's comments like that, Thad, that make no-one believe you when you insist you're straight._

**_On_A_ThadDiet:_**_ I have a girlfriend, Thompson. You've met her. I'm just very comfortable in my sexuality._

* * *

_Courage. Xxx –B_

Kurt looked down at the text on his phone, smiling slightly before he flipped it shut and turning his attention back to the task at hand.

"OK, sugar," Mrs Shrewesbury told him, positively beaming at him. "Here's your welcome pack. If you open it, you should find a map of the school, your timetable and your room number and key."

"Thank you," Kurt replied, smiling as widely and innocently as he could.

He was pointedly _not _looking at the woman's ill-fated clothing ensemble, determined not to make any enemies here on his first day. As much as he'd love to give Mrs Shrewesbury some much needed fashion advice, Kurt could sense that that was probably not the most tactful way to tackle the problem. He had time, anyway. He could always broach the subject with her later.

"No trouble," she said. "If you have any problems whatsoever in your first few days, feel free to drop by and I'll try and help you out."

Kurt gave her his thanks and then turned around and looked at his surroundings.

So.

Here he was. Dalton Academy, Westerville, Ohio. Home to preppy prep school boys and proud owners of a zero-tolerance no harassment policy.

His new home.

The school building alone was enough to intimidate Kurt. Everything about it just reeked of a high income bracket. From the wood panelling on the walls, to the high ceilings, to the gorgeous spiral staircases, Kurt couldn't help but feel as if he was stepping foot into some sort of stately home rather than a school.

Then there were the students, every last one of them so very clean cut and well-kept. A zero-tolerance policy on harassment and bullying didn't mean that everybody would magically accept his sexuality. They were still in Ohio, after all. All the policy really meant was that no one was going to be able to act on their prejudices.

Which, Kurt supposed, was a massive step up from McKinley.

Kurt took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the main school.

The un-tempered level of noise hit Kurt like a slap to the face as the sound of hundreds of hard-soled shoes thundering against wooden floors filled his ears. All around him, blazer-clad boys swarmed up and down the main staircase, every last one of them wearing an identical look of excitement.

It was like there was some kind of manic frenzy about something and Kurt couldn't quite figure out why.

Struggling to keep the intimidated expression off his face, Kurt reached out and tapped the next passing student on the shoulder.

The boy in question had a shock of blond hair and lively brown eyes which gazed at Kurt, politely inquiring. He waited a few seconds before he prompted, "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes," Kurt stumbled for the right thing to say. Just then, the other boy's eyes widened.

"_You're _our new student," he exclaimed. "Kurt Hummel, from McKinley High in Lima, right?"

Kurt blinked. "Information spreads fast here I see," he managed to get out.

"I'm Jeff," the student – _Jeff _– said. "And yeah. Less of a grapevine, more of a bullet train, I'm afraid."

"So," Kurt hedged. "What's going on here? It seems a bit … crazier than I thought Dalton would be."

Jeff laughed good naturedly. "Oh, it's just the Warblers. They're our school's Glee Club. Every so often Wes and David get it into their minds to have an impromptu jam session." Jeff shrugged. "Tends to shut the school down for a while."

"Oh," Kurt said. Glee Club here was cool? Well, he could work with that.

"So, Kurt Hummel, from McKinley High in Lima, Ohio," Jeff went on. "Would you like to watch?"

* * *

**_David-is-cool:_**_ New student update: new guy's kinda an ass._

**_AsianDomination:_**_ David…_

**_DaJeffster:_**_ Yeah, David. Kind of?_

**_On_A_ThadDiet:_**_ Now, now, let's at least give this guy the full credit he deserves. He's an arrogant shithead, not 'kinda an ass'._

**_AsianDomination:_**_ Thad…_

**_StNick:_**_ Wes, I don't think they can hear the disapproving edge in your tone through text. And guys, in case you were wondering, Wes has his 'I'm very disappointed in you, children' face on right now._

**_David-is-cool:_**_ I would apologise, but…_

**_DaJeffster: _**_…It's not going to make new kid any less of an arrogant shithead._

**_AsianDomination:_**_ Jeff…_

**_StNick:_**_ As much as I would love to take the moral high ground here, I have to agree with the others, Wes. In sentiment, at least, if not language. He kind of walks around like he owns the place and, if I'm honest, I kind of hate how obsessed with his hair he is._

**_AsianDomination:_**_ I feel like I'm talking to myself here._

**_StNick:_**_ In all honesty, Wes, you may as well be for all they're listening._

**_AsianDominaton:_**_ If only I had a virtual gavel…_

* * *

Jeff led Kurt through a maze of corridors to an open music room, already crowded with boys. Kurt glanced around the room for a CD player, or some instruments, but came up blank.

"We're an a cappella group," Jeff explained.

"Cool," Kurt found himself nodding. "Wait, we?"

Jeff grinned, stepping away from Kurt. "If you'll excuse me…"

He left Kurt at the doorway, walking to the centre of the group, where he began to sing.

"_Weekends in bed, no scrambled eggs or bacon, I just have time for you,"_ he sang.

Kurt blinked, just a little bit shocked. Jeff was staring _right _at him as he sang. Or at least it seemed that way, until another voice rang out behind him. Kurt whipped his head around to see a black-haired boy sauntering in past him, a broad smile pinned to his face as he sang.

"_Backs on the grass, heads in the clouds, we close our eyes, enjoy the view," _chimed the other boy.

Their voices came together now, "_And we don't want to hear the real world passing by, saying that we're crazy…"_

It was kind of heart-warming to watch all the other Warblers jump in when the song reached the chorus, belting out in perfect harmony, "_We spend all our time, lying side by side, going nowhere – it's really something – getting busy doing nothing."_

Jeff and the other boy were staring at each other as they sang, shyly smiling. There was none of that aggressive affection that seemed to be present in nearly every single New Directions duet; instead, it was all very PG-13, Disney movie approved fondness. It was… toned down. Nice.

When they finished the song, and the Warblers burst out into appreciative applause, Kurt found himself joining in. Jeff tugged the other boy up to Kurt after they were done.

"So, what did you think, New Kid?" Jeff asked.

"You guys are great," Kurt enthused. He stuck his hand out to the other boy. "I'm Kurt, by the way."

The other boy smiled and shook it. "I know," he said. "I'm Nick. Nick Duval. Welcome to Dalton."

Kurt smiled back.

* * *

**_David-is-Cool: _**_Wes, we're good friends, right?_

**_AsianDomination: _**_Experience has taught me to be wary whenever you start a conversation with that phrase, but yes, David, that is the case._

**_David-is-Cool: _**_So, say, theoretically I had a dead body I needed help hiding…_

**_AsianDomination: _**_Sigh. OK, here goes, David._

**_AsianDomination: _**_Officially, I'd like to remind you of Dalton's strict zero-tolerance policy on harassment. This includes all types of harassment, which in turn includes murder. And, as a good friend, I have to remind you that the legal entanglements from such an activity would be difficult to say the least._

**_David-is-Cool: _**_Noted._

**_AsianDomination: _**_Unofficially, we are talking about Mr Arrogant Shithead, right?_

**_David-is-Cool: _**_Who else?_

**_AsianDomination: _**_…_

**_David-is-Cool: _**_Wes?_

**_AsianDomination: _**_Let me get my shovel._

* * *

Kurt prodded at his lunch dispassionately, not really feeling up to eating the full-frontal hot meal that Nick and Jeff had selected for him from the day's menu.

After the Warblers' impromptu performance-slash-jam-session had drawn to a close, both Nick and Jeff had attached themselves to Kurt and decided they were going to act as his guardians through the school. This included their idea of the Dalton Academy grand tour – which was admittedly far more helpful than the official tour he'd been given earlier, even if Kurt doubted that he would ever really need any of the discreet places to make-out Jeff had shown him – and their crash course guide to the lunch hall, including what to eat and where to sit.

He was currently sandwiched in between a cheerful black guy, who'd introduced himself as David Thompson, and an Asian guy ("Wesley Montgomery," Jeff had declared, "our fearless leader.") who was friendly, if a bit sanctimonious at times. Jeff and Nick were sat opposite him at the table, far too far into each other's personal space for them to have been anything other than a couple.

They were all painfully nice and polite. It was kind of a culture shock when he compared it to the almost habitual abrasiveness associated with McKinley students. Dalton was very … sheltered by comparison.

And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"So," David said conversationally, drawing Kurt into the discussion. "Why'd you transfer? Not that Dalton isn't a brilliant school, but it must be quite the drive from home, I'd imagine."

Kurt hesitated. "There was," he began, before trailing off. "…An incident at my old school."

Across the table, Nick frowned as he stole a runner bean off Jeff's plate. "You really don't have to tell us if you don't want to," he said reasonably.

For a moment, Kurt considered telling them – not everything, obviously, but about the car crash and about the coma – but he didn't. It didn't seem fair that he'd talk to these people about this when he'd barely told his father the bare bones of what happened.

"It's stupid, because you could probably find out rather easily if you were determined enough," Kurt admitted, "but I'd really rather not, if that's OK?"

"It's fine," Jeff agreed easily, swatting at Nick's hand when the latter went for another piece of food.. "We don't mind."

They sat in awkward silence for a while, before Kurt finally gave up on trying to make it look like he was eating his food and threw his fork down onto his plate.

"So," he said, changing the subject. "How long have you two been dating?" He gestured at Nick and Jeff.

Jeff laughed, moving a slight bit away from Nick. "I suppose we aren't exactly subtle, are we?" he mused. "But it must be... goodness, about a year now. We started going out some time in December last year, didn't we?"

"Mm," Nick hummed in agreement as he chewed on a mouthful of his baked potato. "Sounds 'bout right."

"They're insufferably sweet together," David opined. "I swear, I've had to start brushing my teeth every five minutes whenever I'm around these two, lest my dentist bill goes through the roof."

Jeff grinned, before turning the conversation back to Kurt. "What about you? Any girlfriends waiting back in Lima?" he asked casually.

Kurt raised his eyebrows at him. "Are you seriously asking me that?" he asked dubiously.

"Uh, yes?" Jeff said, but it came out as more of a question. "Did I offend you or..?"

Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "It's not that," he told him. "I'm sorry, it's just… I had something of a … reputation back at McKinley."

"Oh," Wes said from beside Kurt. "I hope it was good. Not, 'that's the kid who set fire to the maths teacher.'"

"It was physics," quipped Kurt without even thinking about it. He sighed, ready to take the plunge. "No, I meant, as That Gay Kid."

"You're gay?" Jeff asked, sounding delighted.

"Along with another ten per cent of the population," Kurt retorted dryly. "But I thought it was pretty obvious…" he trailed off when he saw the completely and utterly maniacal grin on Jeff's face.

"Yes!" the teenager cheered triumphantly, punching his fist in the air. "Pay up, Thompson."

He made a 'hand it over' gesture at David, who just groaned and pulled out his wallet.

"You bet against him on _that?!"_ Kurt asked incredulously as he watched David count out fifty dollars in bills.

"I know right?" Jeff said with a cocky grin, accepting his bounty smugly. "My gaydar is infallible."

"Uh, hello, are we talking about the same person here, Jeff? You didn't notice _Nick _was gay when even _I _could see he'd been pining over you for _weeks_, Jeff," Wes pointed out. "Come on, you have to side with me on this, Nick."

"Whatever helps him sleep at night," Nick said with a shrug which earned him a playful punch in the arm from Jeff.

"So," Kurt felt the need to clarify, "you guys don't care?"

Wes snorted. "Unless you decide to break up Niff, we have no reason to."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Niff?"

"Yeah, we _earned _that 'ship, thank you very much," David declared brazenly. He turned to Kurt to explain. "These two spent so long dancing around each other, the sexual tension was almost unbearable."

"Trust me," Wes affirmed. "We're talking ridiculous. I was _this _close to locking them in a closet together." Wes held his fingers out barely an inch apart to indicate the distance to Kurt. "If they hadn't kissed when they did, it would have ended in blood, I swear."

"Should I be worried?" Kurt asked amusedly. "I mean, if you two get this invested in your friends' love lives…"

David shook his head, taking on a vaguely traumatised expression. "You weren't there, man," he said his eyes unfocused. "You wouldn't know."

Wes rolled his eyes, but reached across Kurt to pat David comfortingly on the shoulder. "It's OK, David. It's over now." He turned back to Kurt. "So, no, we really don't mind if you're gay. I've had more straight guys drunkenly make out with me at parties than gay ones, so it's really no big deal."

David sat up straight. "Hey, that was _one time, _Wes!" he shouted. "You said you'd let it go!"

As much as Kurt wanted to sit there and watch Wes and David bicker over what sounded like a _fascinating _tale of drunken sexual experimentation, he was drawn away from the conversation by the sound of his phone going off with a text.

_It's my lunch break. Call me maybe? Xx_

Kurt read the text, unable to stop the high-wattage smile that wormed its way into his expression.

"Oh, I know that look," David grinned, snatching the phone away from Kurt with ease. "Who's Chandler, Kurt?" he asked, reading the text. "And why does he want you to call him maybe?" His eyes glinted as he started to sing, "_Hey, I just met you—"_

"Give that back," Kurt ordered, trying to reach for his mobile. David danced out of his reach, flicking through his phone to see his history.

"_And this is crazy—" _David leapt to the side as Kurt lunged right at him. "Man," he crowed. "This guy is like the only person you've called for the past week."

"Come on, give it back," Kurt whined, throwing himself at David, who once more dodged him with razor-sharp agility.

"Well, I've found his number," David mused, his finger hovering over the call button. "So I guess I'll call him may—oomph!"

Kurt threw himself on top of David, grappling with the older boy and trying to wrestle the phone out of his grasp. David wasn't giving in easily, though, and resisted Kurt with all his strength, holding the phone just out of Kurt's reach as he hit dial.

The call went through.

"_Kurt?"_

The gathered company all froze at the sound of the voice. Kurt used the distraction to snatch his phone back and press it to his ear.

"Sorry, I'm here," he rushed out, glaring at the other boys. "No, that was just some … friends messing around with my phone."

Kurt gathered himself up off the floor and glared once more at the boys before he ducked out of the room for some privacy.

David, Wes, Jeff and Nick all stared after him. It was Nick who eventually broke the silence.

"Well, that friendship was nice while it lasted," he stated.

* * *

_I don't think I've said this yet, but thank you._

It's no problem, Blaine. Seriously. What are friends for?

Blaine? You still there?

_I don't really have many friends._

Well, you've got me. Remember?

_I remember. Thank you once again._

Look, it's no trouble, really.

_No, I don't just mean for that. For Wendy, as well. And being there._

That wasn't trouble, either. Now, go get some sleep. It has to be nearly 4am there.

_Thank you._

Cut that out.

* * *

"_So, how's Dalton?" _Blaine asked when Kurt had found himself a deserted alcove.

"Different," Kurt said. "Very, very different."

"_Oh, that sounds ominous," _Blaine said. "_Wanna talk about it?"_

"Oh no," laughed Kurt. "It's not bad-different, or good-different, really, just different." He pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. "It's all very … preppy."

"_I do remember thinking something to the same effect after my first day," _Blaine laughed down the phone. The sound made Kurt's heart leap into his throat. "_So, wanna know what happened during filming today?"_

"Do I want to know about this, Blaine? Spoilers, you know."

"_Not really a spoiler," _Blaine told him. "_More of a preview. Anyway, we spent about half an hour on this shower scene—"_

"You mean the nation is going to get to see my boyfriend shirtless before I do?" Kurt teased, feigning hurt.

_"Can I finish the story?" _Blaine asked in false annoyance. "_So, I'm under this jet of water, and the cameras are rolling, and I'm completely in character, and I'm absolutely nailing this shower scene—"_

"Well, they do say you can brood anywhere," Kurt interjected cheekily. "Sorry, continue."

"_As I was saying, I'm in the shower, when Beatrice – she plays Sally on the show – thinks it will be hilarious to cut the hot water off halfway through a take. So, I'm there angsting away, half-naked in front of all these cameramen, when all of a sudden the water turns freezing cold."_

Kurt bit his lip. "What did you do?"

_"What do you think I did?" _Blaine asked. "_I shrieked like a girl and jumped about a foot backwards from the jet of water." _He sighed._ "They got it all on film, too. I think it's going to end up in the outtakes section of the DVD."_

Kurt snickered, trying and failing to shield the phone from the sound.

_"Go on, Kurtie-boy, laugh it up," _Blaine sniffed. "_We'll see what happens when someone does it to you."_

"Are you inviting me into your shower, Mr Anderson?" Kurt gasped down the phone. "How very forward of you."

Blaine laughed down the phone, a full, throaty sound. _Keep it together, Hummel. You will not swoon. You will not swoon._

_"As much as I would love to continue down this line of conversation, Wendy is giving me the evil eye through the window." _Blaine sighed. "_I'll call you later, OK?"_

"OK," Kurt sighed, glancing at his watch. He should probably start to get ready for class after lunch. "I should probably go too."

"_Have fun in your classes and don't snark at the teachers too much. They aren't used to you yet."_

"I'll try."

_"And Kurt?"_

"Yes?"

_"You move me."_

The line cut off before Kurt could reply.

* * *

**_Blanderson to play "other roles"_**

_So, these past few days, Blaine Anderson (_Rational Fear_) has been dropping countless hints about "a new project [he's] really excited about." Ever since the actor famously came out in a youtube video (_Courage, _found __here_)_ there has been speculation as to whether or not his future career would be helped or hindered by the ballsy move, despite the teen's steadfast refusal to speak on the subject or anything relating to it._

_Well, now the verdict's in. It seems the former is the case, as Blaine now tells us that he's going to be picking up a part on the up-and-coming drama, _Collision Course.

_The pilot of _Collision Course _is set to hit our TV screens in the early days of the new year, having rolled into shooting earlier this week. We don't know much about the drama, except that it's classified as a dromedy, and that Blaine will be appearing in it, playing a part "very, very different to Gavin Hope."_

_In a statement released to the press earlier this week, Blaine revealed that this is something he's really looking forward._

_"Don't get me wrong," he told us. "I love playing Gavin. _Rational Fear _is a fantastic coming of age story about growing up and into yourself – about finding inner strength – and Gavin is a brilliantly written character, but you can't deny that he's all kinds of messed up. I mean, who can blame him, but you must have noticed how many scenes there are when I'm just brooding in various locations. That doesn't cut down in season two, by the way."_

_Oh yes, Blaine, we know. We've all seen the shower scene. Some more than others._

_"My character on _Collision Course, _however," Blaine continued, "is different to that. I can't tell you much about him, lest I spoil it, but you'll know when you see him. He's a completely different type of role model. I can't wait to get stuck in to filming."_

_And I, personally, can't wait to see Blaine out of his comfort zone in terms of acting. I mean, we still get shower scenes, even if he's not brooding in them, right? And, much as I love _Rational Fear_, I can't wait to see how Blanderson handles a character that doesn't move between angst and more angst._

From Inside-Out-Upside-Down, written by OgreEight, posted 2010.

* * *

OK, it was official.

Kurt Hummel was completely and utterly, beyond doubt, without confusion, lost.

The hallways of Dalton had all long since started to look the same and Kurt had yet to come across anyone he could ask for directions. Five minutes ago, he'd been convinced he'd found the dining room, only to fling open the doors and find a room full of whirring CPUs and motherboards. Not his finest moment.

There weren't any signs, either and it was starting to seem to Kurt like Dalton had a completely random system for numbering their rooms.

So, he was understandably pretty relieved when he spotted another student sat on one of the window seats, face buried in a book.

"Hey," Kurt said, approaching the boy. "I'm looking for the lunch hall – could you point it out to me?"

The student didn't lower his book. "New kid?" he asked disinterestedly.

"Uh," Kurt said, not sure how to handle the dismissal. "Yeah. Sorry about this."

"I'm new too," said the student, "and navigating these hallowed halls is pretty easy. You must be _all_ kinds of _special_ to get lost."

He still hadn't looked up from the book. Kurt flexed his fingers, biting down on the urge to spit something sharp and insulting back at him.

"Look it's my first day," Kurt said, struggling to keep his voice even. "So, I really would appreciate some help, if you could get off your arrogant arse long enough to pluck out the stick stuck up there and actually act like a decent person for five seconds."

Oops. So much for an even tone. "Uh, sorry," Kurt stammered immediately afterwards. "I'll go."

But the student had finally lowered his book, and was now raking his eyes up and down Kurt's form appreciatively. It kind of made Kurt feel like he wanted to scrub his own skin raw with bleach.

"Oh no," drawled the student. "Don't apologise. That was pretty hot, actually." He smiled a smile so salacious Kurt was pretty sure it could deflower innocent girls all on its own. "You are?"

Kurt felt like he was making a deal with the devil as he stuck out his hand. "Kurt Hummel."

The other student grasped it, a smirk already toying with the edge of his lips, like there was something so deliciously ironic about this meeting. Kurt felt insecure, objectified and lost all at once.

"Sebastian Smythe."

* * *

_Oh my goodness. This is such a long chapter. I just wrote and wrote and wrote. There are some things I like about it, but overall, I'm somewhat dissatisfied with it. But hey, it was a bitch to write, so I'm posting it now._

_And the song the Warblers do is "Busy" by Olly Murs. I don't actually know it Americans have even heard of him, but he's kind of a big deal over here, and his music strikes me as very Warbler-y. So, drop me a review - tell me your favourite thing this chapter so I know what I'm doing well and what I'm crap at._

_You guys should be flattered. You're getting this chapter before S&C, so you better appreciate it lest I think you're all ungrateful and what not._

_Oh, here's a fun question: do Americans actually use the word malarkey? 'Cause I do. But then again, I also say things like 'argy-bargy' and 'hanging around the opium dens' in everyday conversation, so, you know._

_-Kaputt_

_PS: All ye fearless reviewers, you make my day (and week) so keep it up, please!_

_PPS: I'm no longer studying mechanics, so the physics references may pick up in the next few chapters as I start to go into withdrawal. :(_

_PPS: (I should stop now) WE BREACHED 20,000 WORDS!_


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